Watching, Waiting

The next hours flew by in a whirl of activity and it seemed only moments later that the five young men were staring up at the stage they would be performing on that night. Despite all their recent anxiety over the threat posed against them, the thrill and excitement of performing had momentarily taken their minds back to what they loved most of all. As they stood watching, their backdrop was lowered and all five grinned broadly; it looked awesome.

“I gotta get a picture of this!” Frank cried excitedly. “I’m going back to the bus for my camera.”
“Take someone with you!” Ray reminded.

Frank sighed and nodded; a little of his excitement drained away at the reminder. As he turned, one of their contingent of guards approached.

“I’ll escort you back, Mister Iero,” he volunteered.

Frank smiled.

“Thanks,” he headed off in the direction of the bus, “but call me Frank.”

The two men headed out of the venue and to the back where all the buses were parked. It was quite early in the afternoon still, even before the sound checks had taken place but the bulk of the unloading had been done and every was inside the venue setting the stage, rigging lighting and checking equipment.

“I didn’t like this need for extra security,” Frank confessed to the guard, “but I’ll admit, it’s pretty deserted back here, so I’m glad you’re here.”
“No worries, Mister… Frank, that’s what we’re here for.”
Frank chuckled. “Mister Frank, I like that!”

Opening the door to their bus, Frank stepped inside. “Just be a minute, I’m pretty sure I know where it is.”

As Frank searched for the camera, the door opened once more and the guard followed him inside, locking the door behind him.

“There!” Frank cried triumphantly as he snatched his camera out of one of his bags. As he turned he almost collided with the guard. “Woah! You scared the life out of me!”
“It’s good to know you’re so easily scared, Frankie.”
Frank’s eyes widened and his lips parted. “You!” he finally managed.

The man stood between him and the door and he was easily twice his size and towering over him, but he had to try. Frank bolted for the door, but the guard swung an arm around his waist and pulled him off his feet. Frank struggled in his grip but he was too strong, finally throwing him to the floor near the bunk room. Frank shook his head dazedly as he pushed himself up again. As he scrambled to his feet, the guard pulled him up twisting his left arm high up his back. The movement was painful and he gasped as he felt a sharp searing pain in his shoulder. Just about to shout for help, Frank’s eyes widened in alarm as a sweet smelling cloth was held over his nose and mouth. Holding his breath, he continued to struggle, but the sound of his attacker’s laughter rang in his ears.

“You’ll have to breathe sometime, Frankie and I promise you, you’ll give up way before I do!”

That moment was only seconds away. Frank felt as if his lungs might burst without another breath. To hasten the inevitable, the guard twisted Frank’s arm further. Another gasp of pain forced Frank to take a breath and within moments he was slipping to the floor unconscious.

*

“Back in a minute!” Gerard called as he spotted the sound engineer and ran to greet him and to set up a half hour slot to discuss the set and effects they would like in each of the songs. The engineer, he knew, would have been briefed on the set requirements already and the sound check would cover most of them, but Gerard always liked to make personal contact with the man responsible for making them sound so good in so large a venue. It was important to them that the fans farthest from the stage heard the same quality of sound as those right at the front.

“Frank’s taking his time,” Ray commented.
“You know what his packing’s like,” Bob replied, “he probably can’t find his camera.”
“I know where mine is,” Mikey said, “I’ll get a photo on mine. If he’s not out quick, they’ll be starting the sound checks and he won’t get a clear shot.”

Heading out into the deserted parking lot, Mikey suddenly wished he had taken Ray’s earlier advice to take someone with him. Still, the bus wasn’t far and he consoled himself with the idea that if no one were about at all, then there were no psychos either. Finally arriving at the bus, Mikey reached up and opened the door.

“Mister Way, Are you looking for Mister Iero?”

Mikey turned and nodded, relieved to see the man sporting an ‘All Access’ pass around his neck.

“Yeah, he came back to the bus looking for his camera.”
“He’s over there.”

Mikey looked around the side of the bus.

“Where?” he asked, unable to see the guitarist.

The man manoeuvred himself behind Mikey and pointed over his left shoulder.

“I still don’t see him,” Mikey replied following the line indicated by the man’s arm.
“No, well,” he began as he dropped his arm and grabbed Mikey’s right wrist, effectively pinning him before clamping the cloth over his nose and mouth, “that’s because he’s in the trunk of my car.”

Alarmed, Mikey tried to struggle and scream but both the man and the drug were too strong. Within moments, the man had scooped up the slender bassist and was headed for his car.

“Too easy!” the man laughed as he dumped Mikey’s limp form alongside Frank before sliding behind the wheel and driving out of the parking lot.

*

“We go up in about twenty minutes to run through the set,” Gerard advised them as he returned to the remaining band members. “Where’d Mikey go?” he asked glancing around.
“To get his camera and Frank,” Bob replied with a frown as he looked at his watch, “but they’ve both been gone too long.”
Gerard paled slightly and his breathing quickened. “I don’t like this.”
“Hey guys!” their tour manager called cheerfully. “What do you think?”
“We have to find Mikey and Frank,” Gerard replied.
“Something wrong?” he asked, concerned by Gerard’s tone.
“They went back to the bus, but they’ve been gone too long, Eddie. We’re worried.”
“They had security?”
“Yeah, but…” Gerard tapered off, it sounded so ridiculous.
“Look, don’t worry. I’ll go and find them, you stay right here. Okay?”

The three men nodded, concerned for their friends and seriously hoping it was just a panic induced overreaction. Indicating to a couple of security guards to stay with the band, Eddie walked swiftly to the parking lot with another guard. Scouring the area, they found no sign of either musician. Stepping inside the bus, Eddie saw the dropped camera and some small signs of a struggle.

“Damn it!” he shouted in frustration. “How did he manage this?”

Turning to the security guard, Eddie sighed.

“I want you to contact your on site manager, get everyone together and see if anyone’s missing,” he paused briefly, “or extra. And I want a top to bottom search of this place for Frank and Mikey. Tear it apart if you have to.”

*

Frank stretched out his fingers; it was to be the first of many small movements and sounds that preceded his return to consciousness. Slowly he became aware of the cold filtering through his clothes, it was the first real sensation he felt. Next came the reminders of what had happened and why he truly wished he were still unconscious. His eyelids felt heavy, he felt dizzy and nauseous, his mouth parched and his head pounded like the worst migraine he had ever experienced.

From his position on the floor he could see little, but there didn’t seem as though there was much to see. The room, clearly a windowless basement or cellar, was dimly lit by a solitary light bulb hanging from the centre of the ceiling. A set of steps led up to a door under which he could see a faint strip of light from the room beyond.

Pushing himself onto his knees, Frank’s heart sank as he noticed the chains around his wrists. Looking around, he followed the string of thick links. It was a simple arrangement: a long length of chain had been threaded through a bracket firmly fixed to the wall, each end of the chain wrapped tightly around his wrists and fastened with two substantial looking padlocks. Simple. Effective. Inescapable. Frowning unhappily, he wrapped the chains around his hands and pulled with all his strength, placing one foot against the wall and leaning back adding all his weight to the tug. Nothing, not even a slight dust-fall from the bracket’s screws. Exhausted, Frank dropped the chains and turned to flop back against the wall. Drawing his legs up, he rested his right arm on his knees as he inspected one of the padlocks. Sighing heavily he hugged his knees as he looked away admitting defeat. He tried to push the thought from his mind, but the crushing reality was that he was almost certainly going to die here. It no longer mattered to him that he didn’t even know why; being separated from his friends and family was much harder to bear than the apparent futility of his murder.

A noise to his left caught his attention and he turned his head in surprise, peering into the darkness near the far wall. It was little more than the ghost of a sigh, but in the stillness of the room, Frank heard it amplified as if in a cave. He was about to give up and assume it was a figment of his imagination when he spotted one of the dark shadows moving.

“Who’s there?” he called as what he believed was a shadow stretched out into human form.

The figure mumbled incoherently and rolled onto it’s back, for the first time affording Frank a clear view of the pale and dimly lit face.

“Mikey!” he cried in utter astonishment.

Edging over as far as the chains would allow, Frank stared in confusion at his friend, also held in chains and apparently suffering in much the same way he had done on first waking, how he was still suffering.

“Mikey?” Frank repeated as the bassist opened his eyes. “Are you okay?”

Mikey let his head loll to his left and offered a weak smile.

“From the looks of it, I’m a few minutes behind you.”

Frank nodded and returned the smile as Mikey pushed himself into a sitting position. Seeing Frank’s arms pulled almost to full stretch behind him, Mikey checked his own wrists and his brow furrowed deeply as he took in their situation.

“What are you doing here?” asked Frank.
“I’d like to say, I’m just passing through, but it looks like I’m a permanent resident.”
“But he was only after me!” Frank continued.
“Gee must be right, he’s out to get all of us now.” Mikey sighed, as Frank retreated back to the wall. “This is not good.”
Frank allowed a small cheerless laugh pass his lips. “Mikey, your powers of understatement will never cease to amaze me.”

*

“We have to cancel the show,” Eddie announced into his cell phone.
“What’s happened?” Brian asked urgently. “Are the guys okay?”
“Frank and Mikey have disappeared,” Eddie explained with a sigh.
“How?” asked Brian astonished by the reply; he had expected an attempt maybe, but two band members abducted was unthinkable. “Where was their security?”
“That’s just it,” Eddie replied helplessly, “we don’t know what happened. As far as anyone can remember, they had security with them and were never alone.”
“That’s impossible!” Brian argued, angry and upset by the news. “Unless you’ve got an unconscious security guard on your hands, someone left them alone!”
“There is another possibility, well three possibilities.”
“Tell me,” Brian sighed.
“We know Frankie went back to the bus and that he had a guard with him.”
“Which one?” Brian interrupted.
“I don’t know. No one seems to remember. We’ve seen some of these guys before, but it’s the first day, lots of new faces. All we know was he had a Security and All Access pass.”
“Okay,” Brian rubbed his eyes, “tell me the options.”
“Either, someone stole security passes and posed as a guard, someone bribed a guard to get them on their own, or…”
“Or one of the guards is the guy sending the death threats?”
“Yeah, basically.”
Brian thumped the desk. “This is why he targeted him on the first day! Because no one would know if he was genuine or not and if he were, they’d be unlikely to remember him. Why didn’t I see this coming?”
“It’s not your fault, Brian,” Eddie reassured him.
“I want the names of every guard on the payroll and I want to know if they were on duty at the time they were taken.”
“Sure, I’ve asked the Site Security Manager to do a roll call to find out if anyone’s missing, or even extra.”
“Good, thanks,” Brian thought for a moment. “Where are the rest of the guys now?”
“They’re with me on one of the crew buses.”
“How are they holding up?”
“Not great, they…” Eddie paused as he looked up, wondering how they would feel about him discussing their reaction with Brian. “They haven’t really said much since they found out.”
“We’re fine, Brian!” Gerard called.
“Yeah, don’t worry!” Ray added.
“They’re terrible liars!” Brian almost laughed. “Look Eddie, I’m going to get a doctor to you to give you and the guys something to help you sleep, otherwise, well…”
“I understand,” Eddie replied.
“No, I really don’t think you do. Despite what they’ll tell you, you’ve got three scared and worried guys there, you have to make them rest. Especially Gee, he’s not gonna be able to sit still. Try to keep him off coffee, he’ll be tense enough.”
“Okay, and as soon as I have them, I’ll email the names to you. What will you do?”
“I’ll have to draft some sort of statement, but I’ve no idea what. How do you placate a psycho?”

A loud crash interrupted the conversation.

“What was that?” Brian asked anxiously.

Eddie turned to see a broken table and Gerard with a pained expression and clenched fists being restrained by Ray and Bob.

“That was Gee smashing the table.”
Brian exhaled noisily. “I better let you get back to them. I’ll call that doctor now. You just stay with them and stop them doing anything stupid. Well, anything else stupid.”
“I’ll try,” replied Eddie with a frown. Hanging up, he turned to deal with the present problems inside the bus.

*

Frank and Mikey looked up, torn from their conversation as the door at the top of the stairs opened and their abductor began to slowly descend.

“Who are you?” Frank yelled angrily.
“Let’s play a game,” he laughed as he replied, ignoring Frank’s outrage. Reaching the centre of the room, he smiled cruelly at the guitarist. “You search your memory and you tell me who I am.”
“I don’t know!” Frank snapped in frustration.
“That’s a real shame, Frankie, because there’ll be consequences, there always are.”
“What do you mean?” Frank asked hesitantly.

Not replying, the man reached into his pocket and drew out a length of rope and turning quickly reached down and grabbed Mikey’s ankles.

“Let go of me!” he cried in alarm, kicking and struggling against him.

Finally freeing one of his legs, Mikey managed to kick the man’s arm hard, forcing him to let go. Furious, he clenched his fist and swept it viciously across Mikey’s face.

“No!” Frank yelled, his eyes wide in panic, as Mikey slumped back, momentarily subdued.

Taking advantage of the lull in his struggles, he wrapped the rope around the young bassists ankles and pulled it tight, securing it quickly with a double knot.

“Please,” Frank begged, his eyes not moving from Mikey’s pale and drawn expression, already a bruise was forming across his cheek. “Don’t hurt him. It’s me you hate.”
“You got that right, Frankie!” the man laughed harshly. “But you know, I got to thinking that I could hurt you so much more by making your friends suffer than I ever could by doing anything to you.”

Frank tried to form words, any words, something, anything. But nothing he could think of could reach through this man’s obvious hatred for him.

“I’ll tell you what, Frankie,” he sneered. “To help you remember me, you can ask me twenty questions. For each one where the answer is no, little Mikey here will pay. If, after all the questions, you still can’t remember, and if he’s even still alive, I’m gonna blow his head off, right in front of you.”

Frank’s mouth fell open in horror.

“Depends how many I say no to,” he grinned, “could end up being a mercy killing. Over to you, Frankie.”

Notes