Watching, Waiting

Frank stared up, his mind at once a whirl of thoughts and yet somehow completely blank. Too many ideas and questions remained partially formed before being replaced by yet another and another, with no coherence or sense.

“Come on, Frankie, if you wait too long I’ll call time and you’ll lose a question and Mikey gains a bruise.”

Frank tried unsuccessfully to settle his breathing. His questions needed to be both informative and correct assumptions. He couldn’t afford to ask a question that returned a negative response, but without specifics, there was no way he would be able to establish his identity. Frank resigned himself to the fact that he would almost certainly make mistakes but he could only hope that Mikey understood too. The main priority had to be keeping him alive, above all.

“Clock’s ticking, Frankie.”
“Have we met, personally, face to face, met other than in the last few days?”

Frank held his breath, as, unbeknownst to Frank, did Mikey.

He paused; the wait was sheer torture. “Yes.”

Frank exhaled, but sagged slightly as he realised that he was no further to his goal.

“Next question.”
“Do you know me personally or professionally?”
“Yes or no, Frankie. Pick a question.”
Frank paused. “Professionally?”
An equal pause in the reply pained them both. “Yes.”
“Are you involved in the music industry?”

A broad grin spread across his face.]
“No.”

Frank’s eyes widened as he spun around landing a fierce kick into Mikey’s side, thankfully just below the ribs. Mikey coughed and gasped as all the air in his lungs was driven out sharply. His lashes dampened as he screwed up his eyes in agony. Frank couldn’t bear to look, choosing to throw his head down into his arms folded across his raised knees.

“Question four, Frankie?”

Frank looked up, his eyes filled with desperation.

“Why don’t you leave him alone? It’s me you want and you’ve got me! Please can’t you just leave Mikey out of this?”
“Is that your question?”
“No!” Frank’s voice cracked as he saw Mikey begin to recover from the attack. He didn’t know how much more Mikey could reasonably take.
“Question four! Too late!” he yelled landing another vicious kick in Mikey’s side.
“No!” Frank screamed on hearing Mikey’s agonised cry.
“Question five, Frankie! Ask it or lose another!”
“Okay! Okay!” Frank choked out before a single coherent thought lodged in his brain. It was as if a light had been switched on. He had a security pass, he knew the layout, he knew the systems and procedures, everything. There was only one logical conclusion. “You were a security guard?”
“Yes.” He replied gracelessly.
“On our last tour?”
“Yes.”
“You…” Frank shook his head. “But it’s not you. I had a guy fired for stealing thousands of dollars worth of equipment. But it’s not you,” Frank observed. “Did you know him?”
“Yes.”

Frank could see he was close and the man becoming increasingly angry over being denied the sick pleasure of torturing them. He decided he had no choice; he had to go out on a limb. He had a vague recollection that on their last tour, they had hired two brothers as part of their security team. The detail had stuck in their minds as they considered it only right to have a family atmosphere present in the crew as well as the band.

“You were related to him?”
“Yes,” he replied through gritted teeth.
Frank raised his head and felt he had the final reply. “You’re blaming me for firing your brother for theft?”

The man scowled and landed another brutal kick to Mikey’s side.

“I’m wrong?” Frank asked, horrified; he was so certain.
“No, you’re right,” he snapped, “but the little runt deserved it anyway!”
“You bastard!” Frank yelled. “Leave him out of it!”

Dropping to one knee at Frank’s side, the man wrapped the fingers of his left hand around Frank’s neck.

“Don’t worry, Frankie, I’ll get to you soon enough!” He shouted, placing his face within inches of Frank’s. “You think you were justified firing my brother? You sent him to his death!”
“How?” Frank gasped, his fingers scrabbling to release his grip.
“He was in debt, and not to people you want to mess with. You had him fired and he fell behind, couldn’t pay. Next thing, he’s floating up river with a bullet in his head.” The man tightened his grip. “You’ll pay Iero! Believe me, you’ll pay!”

Pulling Frank forward a few inches, the man then slammed the guitarist’s head back against the wall.

With a terrified gasp, Mikey closed his eyes tightly as he heard the sickening dull thud. When he opened them once more, he watched aghast as Frank slid to the floor. Mikey’s eyes refused to look away until he saw a slight movement of Frank’s abdomen, showing he was still breathing, however shallow that breathing might be.

“If you’re wondering,” the man rose to his feet and addressed Mikey, who could only stare, petrified, in return, “my name is Josh Simons. The man he effectively killed was my brother Pete. I’m going now to get the other three. You’ll all suffer; you’ll all die, slowly, painfully, just like my brother did. And when you’re all dead, it’ll be his turn and it’ll be slow and agonising and he’ll feel every damn second of it!”

Mikey checked his pockets as his breathing became stilted and in short irregular bursts.

“Wait,” he gasped as Simons turned to leave.
“What?” he snapped, turning a fierce look towards Mikey.
“My… my inhaler.”

Simons mouth turned up at the ends as he watched Mikey desperately trying to keep a panic attack at bay.

“What’s the matter, Mikey, someone taken it?”
“Please…” he wheezed. “I… need it.”

Simons nodded and stepped towards the chained and bound bassist, reaching into his pocket as he moved closer. Still breathless, Mikey raised a hand expectantly as Simons drew his hand from his pocket. Instead of the inhaler, he drew out the small taser that he had used on Gerard only a couple of days earlier. Pushing it into Mikey’s chest, Simons laughed harshly as Mikey tensed uncontrollably; his face contorted in agony. Pulling the unit away as Mikey’s eyes rolled back in their sockets, Simons allowed himself a slow and spiteful chuckle.

“See?” he said as Mikey’s breathing slipped to a rate so shallow and faint that it almost matched Frank’s. “You just needed to relax, that’s all.”

*

It had seemed like an unnaturally long day, yet one that was over in the blink of an eye. Eddie had not long since faxed a complete list of security guard details including names, rosters and background information over to Brian and now returned to the band’s bus. Showing his pass to the guard standing outside the door, he stepped inside. Looking in the fridge, Eddie nodded to himself and withdrew a carton of juice.

“Yeah?” he asked lifting the carton to show the three friends.
Ray nodded. “Thanks, Eddie.”
“Please,” Bob raised a half smile.
“No, thanks,” Gerard replied. “I’ll have a coffee.”
“It’s late, have some juice.”
“No thanks, Eddie, I'd prefer a coffee,” Gerard replied with a determined expression fixed to his face.
“Come on, Gee, coffee’ll keep you up all night, have some juice or a soda.”
Gerard shot the tour manager a glare. “You don’t really believe I’ll sleep do you?”
“You have to at least try,” Eddie reasoned with him.

Gerard sighed and continued, his voice stiff from trying to hold a polite tone despite wanting to explode with sheer exasperation.

“I don’t want a juice or a soda and I don’t care what it’ll do to me, I just want a coffee.”
“There’s no point arguing with him,” Bob advised. “It doesn’t matter how much sense you make.”
Gerard rolled his eyes. “I just want a fu…”
“Okay!” Eddie cut in. “Coffee! I get it!”
“Gee,” Ray began quietly as Eddie headed for the kitchen.
“I know,” Gerard replied stiffly. “You don’t have to say it, I know.”

Ray nodded and sat back in the chair. They were all dealing with this in their own way and right now, Ray recognised that Gerard just wanted to be left alone to think.

Returning minutes later with the drinks, Eddie offered a comforting smile to each of them in turn. As Eddie handed Gerard the steaming mug, the singer looked up; his expressive eyes saying more with one look than any number of words could.

“Everyone’s on it, Gee,” Eddie nodded reassuringly. “We’ll find them.”
Gerard nodded and all four men exchanged faint smiles; they had to believe it.

*

Within fifteen minutes, Ray leaned on the table and rested his chin in his hand, his eyes closing and opening as he took a deep breath.

“Eddie,” Gerard chewed his lower lip, “you make a lousy cup of coffee.”
Ray let out a short derisory laugh. “He makes a pretty lousy juice too.”

Bob, who by now was leaning back against the wall, opened his eyes and turned his eyes to Eddie suspiciously. The same thought that had suggested itself to Bob occurred now to all three and Gerard pushed his half drunk coffee away.

“What did you put in it, Eddie?” Gerard growled.
“Just a sedative,” he nodded. “Just something to help you sleep. It’s prescription, nothing illegal.”

The effects of the drug were unrelenting and Gerard was finding it hard to concentrate. Ray and Bob, who had long since finished their juice and had consequently taken a full dose were now struggling to keep focussed.

“Why don’t you get some sleep?” Eddie suggested.
Gerard frowned as his eyes began to feel heavy. “You haven’t really given us much choice, have you?”
“No,” Eddie replied honestly. “But it’s for your own good. There’ll be a guard here all night, you’ll be quite safe.”

The three musicians staggered to their feet, and with Eddie’s help, headed towards the bunk room. Without even the energy or inclination to remove their clothes, they flopped down onto their bunks and fell almost immediately into dreamless sleep.

*

Stepping outside, Eddie smiled as he noticed the guard already waiting outside.

“Sorry you got the night shift,” he greeted him cheerfully.
“That’s okay,” he replied with a shrug. “I’ve been off duty all day, so I’m wide awake.”
“I hope you weren’t counting on company. Should be a pretty quiet night, they’re sleeping.”
“Sleeping?” he tilted his head. “I thought they’d be up all night.”
“Well,” Eddie smiled, “I kinda slipped them something just to make sure they got some rest.”
“That was very thoughtful of you,” he gave a broad smile in return.
Eddie shrugged again. “Goodnight, Josh.”

Watching the tour manager walk away, Josh Simons’ smile broadened still further as he thought about his sedated victims sleeping peacefully inside; unaware of what he had in store for them. He certainly wasn’t complaining, but he couldn’t help but feel completely stunned at how incredibly easy they were making this for him.

*

Mikey was slumped against the wall, half sitting, half lying. He had woken about forty minutes earlier, stiff and sore knowing that, even without looking, that his left side was badly bruised. He had tried to untie his ankles, but on leaning forward, the movement caused some of the most unbearable pain he had ever experienced. The blood had drained from his face at the excruciating pain and he had been forced to wait a few moments for the pain to subside before trying again. This time, he tried to draw his ankles up to within easy reach, but that too was simply too painful. What did I matter anyway? It wasn’t as if he was going anywhere. But he held one thought fixed in his mind; he was still alive. Staring at Frank, as he had done for almost the entire time since he had woken, Mikey knew, if nothing else, that he was too.

*

Ray opened his eyes with some difficulty; the sedative still lying heavy upon him, however, that feeling would stay with him only a few moments more. His eyes widened as he both saw and felt the gun, fitted with a silencer, pushed into his cheek and the hand across his mouth pressing a strip of tape firmly across his lips.

“Don’t make a sound,” Simons whispered. “If you do, I’ll kill you, do you understand?”
Trying to keep his breathing from escalating, Ray nodded lightly.
“Good,” Simons replied, barely audibly as he stood back whilst still aiming the gun directly at him. “Get up!”

Simons backed out of the bunk room as Ray followed him into the living space at the front of the bus.

“Hands behind your back and turn around,” he ordered in a hushed but strained whisper.

Just about to handcuff the guitarist, Simons cursed under his breath as he heard a curtain in the bunk room being pushed back slowly. Turning the gun in his hand, he swiftly brought the butt end down on the back of Ray’s head, catching him as he fell unconscious and bundling him onto one of the long cushioned seats near the windows. Quickly pulling off the gag, Simons screwed up the tape into a small ball and stuffed it into his pocket as he took a seat at the table and pretended to deal out some cards in a game of solitaire. All looked in order as Gerard stumbled sleepily into the room.

“Hey,” he greeted the guard still in a sleepy daze. “Do you want some coffee?”
“No thanks,” Simons replied keeping his head down, certain that Gerard would recognise him from even the brief glance he got of him in the hotel mirror.

Gerard turned an inquisitive glance towards him as, curious by the lack of response. Nearby, on the long seat, he spotted Ray appearing to be lying in a decidedly uncomfortable position.

“You’re sure I can’t get you anything?”

Gerard asked trying hard to see the man’s face. His heart rate was beginning to quicken, despite being unable to put his finger on exactly why, Gerard knew the situation felt very wrong.

“I’m sure,” he replied abruptly. He was just staring at the cards now, his right hand reaching under the table setting off alarm bells in Gerard’s head.

“I’m just going outside for a smoke,” Gerard announced as he turned and headed quickly for the door.

Bringing his hand up above the table once more, Simons fired off a single shot. The bullet zinged past Gerard and embedded itself with a dull pop in the door.

“Sit down,” he ordered his tone full of force, yet unnervingly quiet.

*

Eddie stirred as his phone rang. Dozing lightly in the chair, it took only two rings to bring him back to wakefulness. Reaching across to the table, Eddie became suddenly fully alert as he noticed the caller’s name on the display.

“Brian?”
“I think I may have something,” Brian replied.

Taken aback by the tiredness in Brian’s voice, Eddie glanced at his watch; it was already two-thirty and it sounded as though Brian had worked hard all day and into the early morning.

“Are you okay?” he asked automatically.
“Yes,” Brian returned unintentionally curt. “Listen, I think I know who it is.”

*

Gerard turned his back to the door and stared silently at the guard who was now looking up at him with a cruel smile fixed on his lips.

“Step away from the door, Gerard.”

Gerard hesitated, unwilling to simply give in without a fight. Simons merely sighed and pushed the barrel of the gun against Ray’s forehead.

“Your choice.”

There was none. With a frustrated sigh, Gerard looked down and stepped forward a couple of paces.

“Now, sit on the floor and get acquainted with these,” he said as he threw Gerard the handcuffs originally intended for Ray. “I don’t have all night!” he snapped, his voice getting louder. Leaning slightly forward he gestured with an open palm as if trying to explain a difficult problem. “Don’t you understand? I have three of you to deal with.”

*

“What have you found?” Eddie asked hopefully.
“On the last tour, Frank stumbled across one of the security guards stealing and I’m not just talking small stuff, he was loading a van full of gear and equipment. He was dismissed on the spot. We didn’t go to the police,” Brian sighed, “perhaps we should’ve, but the guy’s career was over, he fed us this sob story. Needless to say, it seemed enough and we let it go.”
“You think he’s back?”
“Definitely not,” Brian replied. “I spoke to the police earlier. He turned up dead a couple of months later. Execution style.”
“Then, who…?”
“There were two of them, his brother was a guard too. He stayed with us, finished the tour, no trouble. But now…”
“Now you’re thinking he’s back for revenge?”
“He is back.” Brian confirmed. “He’s on the list. He wasn’t on duty when they were taken, but that only makes it easier, no one’s expecting him to be anywhere else.”
“Who is it? I’ll watch for when he arrives.”
“A guy called Josh Simons.”
“Fuck!” Eddies eyes widened. “He’s in there with them now!”
“But…” Brian began.
“Someone was ill, he stood in, probably drugged him! I’m on it!”

The phone went dead and Brian could only pray Eddie would be in time.
Racing from the bus, Eddie pulled open the door of the second crew bus. Inside, two guards were playing cards but they looked up immediately, concerned by Eddie’s panicked expression.

“It’s Josh, he’s the psycho! He’s with them!”

The two men didn’t need any more explanation. Abandoning their game they ran from the bus following Eddie towards the band’s bus.

*

Gerard sat cross-legged on the floor, his hands handcuffed behind him, watching as Simons doused a cloth in what he presumed was chloroform.

“What did you do with Mikey and Frank?” he asked in a slightly louder than usual voice.
“They’re safe… ish,” he replied with a callous smile. “And feel free to talk as loud as you like, I have to wake Bob anyway.”

A knock at the door forced Simons’ eyes away from Gerard.

“Who is it?” he asked, more than aware that it would seem much more suspicious if he didn’t reply.
“It’s Eddie,” came the simple reply. “I need to talk to Gerard. Can you open the door?”

Stepping up to the singer, Simons grabbed a handful of his hair and pushed the gun into his cheek.

“He’s asleep,” he lied, lowering his gaze to make sure Gerard didn’t try to play hero.
“I know, but I really have to speak to him.”

Simons released his grip and paced nervously.

“This is your doing!” he snapped at the singer.
“How?” Gerard replied perplexed.

It was the wrong thing to say at the wrong time. The aggravated and anxious guard whipped the gun across his cheek in anger causing Gerard to cry out in shock and pain. Eddie, hearing the cry, immediately forced the door while, with no other escape route, Simons dragged the dazed musician to his feet by his neck and thrust the gun barrel under his jaw. Stepping back as the door was flung open, Simons tensed despite feeling that with Gerard as his hostage, he at least had the upper hand.

“You’re going to get out of the way and let me through, otherwise, he’s dead.”

Eddie took a step back, motioning for the other guards to do the same, as he took in the sight before him.

“Come on, Josh, it’s over now,” Eddie encouraged. “Let him go”
“You think it’s over?” Simons asked tightening his grip on Gerard. “Where are Mikey and Frank?”

Eddie frowned; his lips pursed as he tensed.

“You don’t know do you?” Simons grinned. “Well you better step aside, or not only does he get it, but you’ll never find the other two either!”

Simons paused as Eddie considered his words.

“What’s it gonna be?” Simons taunted him. “Three dead?”

Eddie stepped back silently, the two guards following suit as Simons dragged Gerard from the bus and towards his car. Forcing the helpless singer into the passenger seat, Simons climbed in, all the while keeping the gun levelled at Gerard.

Eddie could only watch as the car sped off. Noting the plate number, he reached for his phone and dialled 911, requesting the police and an ambulance for Ray.

Slamming his fist against the side of the bus, Eddie screamed in frustration of how close they had come to cornering him, yet not only had he escaped again, but now he had Gerard too.

Notes

Hi everyone! Just want to say thanks to everyone who is reading this. If you're enjoying it, feel free to let me know. Only 2 chapters left - what will happen to Gerard?? Thanks!! Sas xox