The Treatment

© Sweet Kisses™

~*~

"Breathe!" Howie yelled. "Please, Nick, breathe!"

They had been trying for minutes, but to no avail. They had been trying repeatedly, and unsuccessfully, to revive their battered friends. It didn't work. Nick and Kevin simply lay stagnant and with their eyes closed on the plush cream carpet. The rope had been flung to the side, the ransom note partially forgotten, and the chairs pushed back. They were both alarmed, and both scared. However, Brian seemed to be more scared and upset than Howie, but Howie knew he was better at controlling his emotions than Brian ever was.

"Come on, Kevin!" Brian shrieked and slapped both of Kevin's bruised and bloody cheeks in a mad haste to bring him out of unconsciousness. Kevin didn't wake, he didn't stir, he didn't move. His body was prone, unmoving, and almost unliving. It was as though he was dead. Brian slapped Kevin's face again. "Come on, Kevin! Wake up! Wake up! For God's sake, wake up!" he screamed and tears ran down his face.

Howie could take no more. He finally pulled Brian away and into his arms in a brotherly embrace, and Brian clung tightly to Howie. He patted Brian's back comfortingly, squeezing his eyes shut to block out the scene of his best friends bruised, battered, unconscious and secretly willed a speedy arrival of the ambulance in extreme vain. He found that every time he looked at his friends, who were now laying on the carpet with their heads supported by cushions, he felt like throwing something, or hitting someone. Or reacting. Reacting with extreme vengeance. Howie made a promise to himself that whoever did this was going to pay, and with nothing less than their life.

Brian sobbed into Howie's shoulder. "He's dead...he's dead...he's dead...!" he wailed and began to sob some more.

"Calm down, Brian," Howie coaxed, patting his friend's back, "he's going to be all right. The ambulance will be here soon, and he'll be taken care of. They both will be taken care of. You'll see, Brian, you'll see." To Howie, it seemed as though he was not only reassuring Brian but also himself, for he didn't believe in happy endings anymore. Not since his sister had died. From then on, all he knew was death. But he tried not to think about it, he tried not to think about why someone would do this, and he tried to think about who would hate them this much or who would be sick and twisted enough to do this to two innocent men. But Howie had an over reactive imagination, and he simply couldn't help it.

Suddenly, the door burst open and in came five paramedics in blue and white uniforms pushing two stretches into the room. "All right, clear the way!" a female paramedic with brown hair bellowed, and Howie and Brian quickly pulled apart and watched the rest of the team lift Nick and Kevin up off the floor and tightly strapped them in before putting oxygen masks over their mouths. "How long have they been like this?" she asked, with her hands on her hips.

Brian shrugged helplessly, and another river of tears rushed down his face. "I-I-I- !"

"I don't know," Howie interrupted, stepping in quickly for Brian's stuttering. "We arrived just a few minutes ago and we found them here, tied up, beaten and unconscious. There was a ransom note."

"Buddy, all we do is help the sick," the woman replied, and began to follow the stretches out the door. "I suggest you call the police. In the meantime, we can give you a ride to the hospital if you wish."

Howie nodded and pulled Brian out of the room by the shirt and they began to jog beside the stretches that were being pushed at a fast rate. The woman with dark brown hair fell into step with them. "You know these guys?"

"He's my cousin!" Brian yelled and pointed to the stretcher which held an unconscious Kevin, with more tears running down his face. "He's my cousin! And I don't want him to die!"

"Buddy," the woman interrupted with a reassuring smile, "no man has ever died on my watch, and I sure ain't gonna lose one now. He's gonna be all right. The blonde one, too. Rest easy, fellas, they're in good care. We'll make sure they'll get through."

Howie and Brian remained standing back as the paramedics pushed their way through the hotel doors and rushed out to the ambulance, which was waiting in front with the back doors open. They followed closely behind the team when they finally loaded the two stretches into the ambulance. Howie felt Brian grab onto his arm and gripped it tightly and with extreme force. Howie winced, but he didn't push Brian away. He knew that Brian needed support at this moment, and he was the only friend that Howie now had that were alive and around. Nick and Kevin were almost on the brink of death and now A.J. was missing. There had to be something done about this. Something, something, something...

"Hey!" the woman's voice yelled. She stood with one hand on the ambulance door handle, ready to jump in and speed off. "You two coming or not?"

Howie broke into a run and pulled Brian along with him and pushed him into the ambulance before jumping in after him. The doors were quickly slammed closed, the engine gunned, and the car screeched off, with a loud and ear-piercing siren to accompany it. Brian and Howie sat in the back, riding the crest of the road and staring at Nick and Kevin who were laying down with clear masks over the bottom halves of their faces. Brian wanted to cry, but he'd already done that. He didn't feel ashamed of crying or acting hysterical. He just didn't want his friend's to die. He wanted them to live, and live they had to. He felt so guilty, like somehow he was responsible. He could've returned earlier, he could've done something. And the note...the note really shook him up.

A.J. was missing. But where? He wondered if they should just leave the hospital after knowing that Nick and Kevin were safe in intensive care so they could make a strong path to whoever did this. But how could they do that? The note did nothing to inform either one of them as to who would do this or why or even where or even how. It was a mystery. A mystery that, Brian figured, would probably commence after the police were involved and an investigation was underway and the next clue was given to them. But what was the next clue? A.J. beaten, too? A.J. maybe even killed? He shuddered at the thought.

Howie place his arm around Brian's shoulders. "It's going to be all right," he said softly. "It is. It just has to be."

Brian smiled weakly and returned his crystal blue eyes back on his two friends that were lying in the back of the ambulance between stark white sheets. He had never seen his cousin look so lifeless, not in all his years, day, minutes and seconds of his life. Kevin was pale, but his face also had dark patches of purple, black, blue and red, the places were he'd taken the beatings the hardest. Each bruise and cut seemed to be imprinted in Brian's mind and he didn't think that there was any way that he could ever forget the feeling of horror and fear that he did when the door opened to their hotel room that night and he found Kevin and Nick bound up to chairs and battered severely.

He was sure there was no way he'd ever forget it.

Suddenly, the car came to a halt and the doors were quickly opened. The paramedics pushed the stretches out of the ambulance and into the entrance to the hospital. Howie and Brian jumped up quickly, jumped out and raced behind the paramedics that were screaming out orders to assisting nurses that were running by the side of them. The hospital corridors were white and bare and stunk to high heaven of disinfectant. Howie almost had to cover his nose with his hand to block out the penetrating smell.

Their shoes squelched on the white linoleum floor as they rushed down the corridor with the paramedics. A series of fluorescent lights spanned the width of the ceiling and shone a ray of yellow onto the floor. They came closer and closer to the emergency room, and both of them sensed fear and death from the sounds and pitches of the voices surrounding them and the coldness of the place itself.

Suddenly, they were stopped at the plastic doors that read in big, bold red letters "Emergency". "Sorry, but we can't let anyone other than a medical team through here," they were told by a man in a white coat who, after saying these words, quickly turned on his heel and rushed through the doors. They both stood staring at the doors, both standing there and saying nothing. But just staring was all they did. They couldn't hear anything coming from the inside and they couldn't see anything on the inside of the room. They both hoped like hell that those people were doing whatever they could to save their friends.

Finally, it was Brian that made the first move and who said the first word. "Coffee?"

Howie nodded. "Yeah, and a seat. I need to sit for a while."

They both placed their arms around each other's shoulders for support and solace and made their way to the waiting room, where all they could do was simply that - wait. Play the waiting game and hope like crazy for the best. After acquiring for themselves each a styrofoam cup of steaming coffee that tasted no better than last week's mud that had been made from the rain and the dirt, they both stomached the bitter tasting liquid and found the waiting room at the centre of the floor. Howie sat down in the red velvet-covered chair and placed his feet on another chair across from him to relax. Brian soon followed suit.

"They're going to be okay, right?" Brian asked at last, holding the cup tightly in his hands.

"Yes," Howie replied and took a small sip of coffee, "they'll be fine. I've told you that."

A woman in a dark blue suit then walked through the doors of the waiting room and briskly walked over to them and introduced herself. "Detective Belsky. I understand there's been a ransom note involved in the battery of the two young men that were brought in tonight." She flicked open a small pad. "One Kevin Richardson and Nickolas Carter, I believe."

Howie stood up quickly. "Uhh...yes. Nice to meet you, Detective. I'm Howard Dorough and - "

"I know who you both are, I have no time for pleasantries," she replied quickly. "Do you have the note?"

"Um, yeah..." Howie pulled the note out of his pocket and handed it to the detective. He watched her frown over it for a moment. "What do you make of it?"

Detective Belsky took a seat, and Howie sat down again next to Brian, who was beginning to look alarmed again. "It's certainly different from anything I've seen in my experience. They obviously want you to react because..."

"Because why?" Brian demanded, still clutching the cup firmly.

She shook her head. "Look, I'll have the entire criminal and kidnapping section onto this. Meanwhile, I can't start a search party for your friend until he's been missing for twenty-four hours."

"But he's been missing for that long!" Brian yelled, jumping out of his seat. "I haven't seen him since yesterday morning."

The detective shook her head. "It's out of my hands. Law states that a search can't be commenced until twenty-four hours after the register of the disappearance. I'm sorry." She looked at them both for several moments, her eyes moving from Brian, to Howie, and back to Brian again. "But I'll see what I can do with this ransom note until then. If you give me a whole lot of details on your friend, we can get started sooner."

"What details do you need?" Howie asked, staring into her brown eyes that had lost all expression. Her dark hair fell in waves down her back, cascading into spiral curls at the ends. He didn't think she was attractive, just merely average in a weird kind of way. He couldn't quite explain it. But something made him stare at her. Maybe it was her fierce determination.

"His appearance, his height, what he was wearing the last time you saw him, what he said the last time you saw him..."

Brian shrugged helplessly, his head spinning from all that was happening to him in such a short amount of time. He felt like he was drowning in a rough and torrid sea that wouldn't let him rise to the surface and breathe. He felt trapped, and he was scared. "I-I don't...know. Um, a black shirt, I think...."

"A black shirt, black pants, and a leather jacket," Howie quickly interrupted. "He didn't say much the last time I saw him. He simply said 'goodbye'."

Detective Belsky raised her eyebrows suspiciously and scribbled furiously. "Do you think that he knew this was going to happen? Was he suicidal at all? Did anyone give him any reason to say this, do you think?" When neither of them answered, she sighed. "Look, I can't help you if you don't give me details. But I do have a suggestion. I think that you," she nodded at Howie, "should go back to the hotel room and wait for further instructions from whomever is holding your friend for ransom, if there will be any further instructions, and Littrell should stay here and wait for an analysis on Richardson's and Carter's condition. Agree?"

They both agreed and, after shaking both their hands and promising to be in touch, Detective Belsky quickly walked out of the waiting room. Howie took a small breath and shuffled his feet. "I guess I should go. Call me when you hear something?"

Brian nodded. "Will do."

Howie took Brian in his arms and patted his back again, similarly to how he had done previously that night. "They'll be all right, Brian. They're strong guys, they'll get through." With that said, Howie sauntered out of the waiting room and down the corridor to the entrance of the hospital. The lights seemed to glare in his eyes, and the vast and vacant hall seemed to be getting longer and longer, instead of shorter. Or maybe it was his fatigued mind overreacting. He kept walking, taking one step at a time and a few small breaths to calm himself. He stood outside the hospital, the cool wind blowing through his shirt and rustling his hair, staring absently into the dark and starry horizon. Then, almost as though it had finally hit home, he realized the fear inside himself.

Someone was after him.

Them.

Howie bit down on his lower lip to stop himself from bursting into tears on the street that was slick from a light drizzle and hailed a cab that was quickly approaching him. The bright yellow lights shone directly into his eyes and he immediately shielded them with his hand. The cab was coming to a stop and Howie took another small breath to calm the fluttering in his stomach that had been occurring since the moment he found Kevin and Nick bound up and beaten. He then made a promise to himself not to think about that part, just the part about them getting better.

The car came to a stop, creating a little splash of water onto the side of the road, and Howie ran and jumped in. The car stunk of smoke and the driver turned around with a cigarette placed between his lips. "Yeah?" he slurred.

"Griffith Hotel."

Instantly, the cab took off. Howie placed his head back on the seat and closed his eyes. His friends just had to get better. They had to. He'd be lost without them. They were all he'd ever known. It seemed to him that it had always been the five of them. Not four, or not even two. It had always been five. Kevin, Nick, Brian, Howie and A.J. That's the way it had always been and if he had anything to do with this, he would try his damn best to make it stay that way. He wasn't going to let A.J. be beaten and abused in the same way as Nick and Kevin. He had to find A.J., and he knew he had to find him soon before time ran out. But what could he do and where could he go? He had no idea where to look first. There simply wasn't enough clues to begin his own reconnaissance. He felt trapped, just like Brian did.

The car swerved around corners and, speeding, took to the highway. It started to rain. Howie looked over to the window and saw little drops of rain tapping against the glass. He sighed. It didn't seem ironic that it would be so inclement on a day like it had been. It seemed to be perfect weather with all events considered. He began to think about where A.J. might be and how A.J. might be feeling. He thought about A.J. being beaten and tied up, and it almost brought him to tears to think that he couldn't save his friend. But he made a strong pact with himself that he wouldn't cry. He was a strong person, and he needed strength at this point in time. He would be strong, and Brian would be strong, and Kevin and Nick would be fine, and A.J. would be saved.

They all would make it out of this alive.

They just would.

The car came to a stop. Howie jolted out of his reverie, paid and thanked the driver politely who, in return, blew smoke into his face and jumped out. He watched the car speed off, watching and watching until it became nothing more than a black dot in the distance. Howie turned on his heel and stared up at the tall building that stood majestically in front of him. All he could see was glass, bright yellow lights and black.

A vast array of blackness seemed to be coming into his life, and he could certainly do without it. Pursing his lips together, he stepped up onto the long concrete entrance and began to walk into the hotel. He stopped suddenly. A flashback of paramedics rushing out with Nick and Kevin whizzed through his mind, and it almost seemed real. He shook his head to make the memory disappear and continued walking and made his way through the doors.

Bellboys rushed past him with errands and various tasks to complete to keep the hotel running smoothly and, at this time of night, there seemed to be hardly any people wandering through the lobby. He checked his watch as he came closer to the front desk. 1:21 A.M. He sighed. No wonder he was tired. He pressed the bell at the front desk for assistance and waited. He looked around himself. Gold, moroon, and black were the hotel colors and it seemed to be immaculately thrown together and looked like every interior designer's fantasy. Perfection.

"Can I help you, Sir?" a blonde, petite woman asked him with a clipped voice and a polite smile.

"Are there any messages for Howard Dorough or Brian Littrell?" he asked, returning the same polite smile.

The woman disappeared for a few moments and Howie drummed his fingers against the counter, leaning against it sideways and staring at the hands on the clock that were ticking. He became almost hypnotized by the rhythmic ticking of the black hands, his eyes fixated on them. His whole life seemed to be hanging by a moment and it seemed as though there was nothing he could do about it.

Finally, a female voice interrupted. "Here you go, Sir, just the one for Brian Littrell," she said and handed him a piece of paper.

"Thanks," he replied and took the piece of paper. He stood perfectly still, his mind not fully registering to what he was reading, but all he could do was gasp. Another note.

- Treatment Two -

Take one friend's toe, give two friend's back

The other's now know they must react

"Hey, who gave you this?" he called. There was no answer. "Hey!" He slammed his hand down on the bell several times, but there was no answer. He looked down at the piece of paper again.

It was then he realized.

"They're going to kill him, little by little, until we find him," Howie said in a whisper.

The paper sifted between his fingers and fluttered to the carpet, his body paralyzed with disbelief and horror. Then, he did something he hadn't done since the passing of his late sister. He burst into tears.

~**~