Collectabe Chapter six
Disclaimer: Blood is red bruises are blue, I don't own, you don't sue.
My friend has adopted this fic and is continuing it, I have her permission to post it here. Please read and review, there are several more chapters ready to be posted and I will do that shortly.
OoOoOo
Collectable
OoOoOo
Chapter six
OoOoOo
Neal wakes up to find himself, suspended by his arms, to a rafter in the ceiling of what appears to be the basement.
He is not alone.
He groans in pain, the cuff around his shattered wrist hurts more than Neal can remember anything hurting, not to mention the ache of the wound the ice pick had produced, it sends searing jolts of agony as well, at the way it was being contorted.
Neal's eyes, cloudy with pain, take a few moments to take in the fact that Mr. Harrison is tied, bloody, to a table right in front of him.
The man's eyes are sewn shut; his left ear severed from his head and crudely pinned back on with carpet staples, giving him a grotesque, living scarecrow, look.
"Joe." Neal croaks to get the man's attention.
"Arkin? Arkin, is that you? What are you doing here?" Joseph's voice is a choked whisper, tired from his agenized screaming.
"That's a long story, where is Sharon, Matthew and Tim?" Neal asks, hoping the man won't press as to why he is there. Given the current circumstances it hardly seems important and he doesn't want to waist the energy to explain.
"Sharon… I don't know. In the house, someplace." He sounds as if he is about to pass out, but Neal can't let him do that just yet, he needs to know where the rest of the family is.
"Matthew and Tim?" he prompts again.
"Twins… twins… at my parents. They picked them up a few hours ago… still sick… weren't coming out with us." And it all sounds like too much effort for him to get out. It hurts Neal just listening to him.
But that's good. It means that at least the boys are safe. Sharon on the other hand, if she is some place in the house; isn't.
Neal takes a few deep breaths.
It's certainly harder with a broken wrist and injured shoulder, but there still hasn't been a pair of cuffs made that Neal Caffrey can't get out of. These are no exception, and soon, they slide off and Neal, slowly pulled his arms down, which hurts his injured shoulder just as much as hanging from it had.
He slowly makes his way over to the table Mr. Harrison is strapped down to and quickly sees that the man isn't actually tied but, is, instead, nailed down with large rusty nails through the middle of his hands. His feet are mangled, tied together with barbed wire…
Neal's stomach clenches in an uncomfortable manner as he doubles over, expelling the content of his stomach onto the concrete floor and his expensive shoes.
More costly, leather accoutrements positively ruined!
Taking a deep breath, Neal mops his face with the sleeve of his good arm.
There is nothing he can do, he can't free the man without doing more damage, and Harrison can't exactly run if he were to be freed. It would be better to leave him and send down help, if Neal was ever to escape himself, that is.
"I-I'm going to find Sharon. I'll come back for you." And he knows even as he makes the promise that he probably won't be able to keep it.
Neal's mouth tastes of vomit and it is all he can do to keep from throwing up again, as he makes his way up the stairs. He opens the door at the top of the basement steps, as little as he can, and slides, sideways, out the small opening, ignoring the pain thrumming through his body.
He tip toes his way around the bottom floor, mindful of all the trip wires. His movements are slow and deliberate, he keeps to the shadows and listens carefully for any sound that may lead him to Sharon, but is very aware that those same sounds could, in fact, lead him to the maniac behind all this.
Scouring the bottom floor, Neal hears nothing. A thumping comes from one of the bedroom upstairs draws his attention and he creeps over to the stairway. Before making his way back up the steps, his eyes are drawn to the frayed edge of the ugly red carpet which is NOT nailed down to the steps, his foot stops mid air above the bottom step before his pulls it back. The carpet had most definitely not been frayed and it had been very, nailed down before with… carpet staples… Neal shutters.
He nibbles his bottom lips and looks around for monofilament line, of which, he finds none of on, or near the steps. Remembering the bathroom, Neal checks every pole of the banister, every lose place a string could be tied, but comes up empty.
He slowly taps his foot on the bottom step and when nothing happens he very gently eases his weight onto his foot before, gaining a bit of confidence, starts climbing, slowly and steadily.
Neal wipes the sweat that had gathered on his brow, as he heads in the direction of the noise. He moves slowly, carefully. He isn't stupid enough to think, that just because the stairs weren't booby trapped, that the upstairs isn't.
It is darker in the upstairs hallway then it had been downstairs, without a single window to offer even the slightest glimmer from a street lamp. It made any trip wires positively invisible. A fact, Neal was very cognizant of.
He steps cautiously and lightly, feeling with his feet for any kind of resistance that there shouldn't be, in hopes he can pull back before triggering anything.
The thumping is coming from the master bedroom, so Neal heads in that direction, feeling his way very slowly as he goes.
His heart thumps in his chest, he is acutely aware of each 'flub-dub' it makes and it sets his skin crawling, you shouldn't be able to FEEL your heart beating, like that. He can hear the blood pounding in his ears and it is as if he can HEAR his heart as well.
His adrenalin is pumping like wild, it is the only thing that has prevented him from passing out from the pain, but still it's an uncomfortable feeling
He takes a deep breath and attempts to calm his body, he is usually much better at it than this, but then again, while he has been in some tight jams before, he has never faced a situation quite like this.
My friend has adopted this fic and is continuing it, I have her permission to post it here. Please read and review, there are several more chapters ready to be posted and I will do that shortly.
OoOoOo
Collectable
OoOoOo
Chapter six
OoOoOo
Neal wakes up to find himself, suspended by his arms, to a rafter in the ceiling of what appears to be the basement.
He is not alone.
He groans in pain, the cuff around his shattered wrist hurts more than Neal can remember anything hurting, not to mention the ache of the wound the ice pick had produced, it sends searing jolts of agony as well, at the way it was being contorted.
Neal's eyes, cloudy with pain, take a few moments to take in the fact that Mr. Harrison is tied, bloody, to a table right in front of him.
The man's eyes are sewn shut; his left ear severed from his head and crudely pinned back on with carpet staples, giving him a grotesque, living scarecrow, look.
"Joe." Neal croaks to get the man's attention.
"Arkin? Arkin, is that you? What are you doing here?" Joseph's voice is a choked whisper, tired from his agenized screaming.
"That's a long story, where is Sharon, Matthew and Tim?" Neal asks, hoping the man won't press as to why he is there. Given the current circumstances it hardly seems important and he doesn't want to waist the energy to explain.
"Sharon… I don't know. In the house, someplace." He sounds as if he is about to pass out, but Neal can't let him do that just yet, he needs to know where the rest of the family is.
"Matthew and Tim?" he prompts again.
"Twins… twins… at my parents. They picked them up a few hours ago… still sick… weren't coming out with us." And it all sounds like too much effort for him to get out. It hurts Neal just listening to him.
But that's good. It means that at least the boys are safe. Sharon on the other hand, if she is some place in the house; isn't.
Neal takes a few deep breaths.
It's certainly harder with a broken wrist and injured shoulder, but there still hasn't been a pair of cuffs made that Neal Caffrey can't get out of. These are no exception, and soon, they slide off and Neal, slowly pulled his arms down, which hurts his injured shoulder just as much as hanging from it had.
He slowly makes his way over to the table Mr. Harrison is strapped down to and quickly sees that the man isn't actually tied but, is, instead, nailed down with large rusty nails through the middle of his hands. His feet are mangled, tied together with barbed wire…
Neal's stomach clenches in an uncomfortable manner as he doubles over, expelling the content of his stomach onto the concrete floor and his expensive shoes.
More costly, leather accoutrements positively ruined!
Taking a deep breath, Neal mops his face with the sleeve of his good arm.
There is nothing he can do, he can't free the man without doing more damage, and Harrison can't exactly run if he were to be freed. It would be better to leave him and send down help, if Neal was ever to escape himself, that is.
"I-I'm going to find Sharon. I'll come back for you." And he knows even as he makes the promise that he probably won't be able to keep it.
Neal's mouth tastes of vomit and it is all he can do to keep from throwing up again, as he makes his way up the stairs. He opens the door at the top of the basement steps, as little as he can, and slides, sideways, out the small opening, ignoring the pain thrumming through his body.
He tip toes his way around the bottom floor, mindful of all the trip wires. His movements are slow and deliberate, he keeps to the shadows and listens carefully for any sound that may lead him to Sharon, but is very aware that those same sounds could, in fact, lead him to the maniac behind all this.
Scouring the bottom floor, Neal hears nothing. A thumping comes from one of the bedroom upstairs draws his attention and he creeps over to the stairway. Before making his way back up the steps, his eyes are drawn to the frayed edge of the ugly red carpet which is NOT nailed down to the steps, his foot stops mid air above the bottom step before his pulls it back. The carpet had most definitely not been frayed and it had been very, nailed down before with… carpet staples… Neal shutters.
He nibbles his bottom lips and looks around for monofilament line, of which, he finds none of on, or near the steps. Remembering the bathroom, Neal checks every pole of the banister, every lose place a string could be tied, but comes up empty.
He slowly taps his foot on the bottom step and when nothing happens he very gently eases his weight onto his foot before, gaining a bit of confidence, starts climbing, slowly and steadily.
Neal wipes the sweat that had gathered on his brow, as he heads in the direction of the noise. He moves slowly, carefully. He isn't stupid enough to think, that just because the stairs weren't booby trapped, that the upstairs isn't.
It is darker in the upstairs hallway then it had been downstairs, without a single window to offer even the slightest glimmer from a street lamp. It made any trip wires positively invisible. A fact, Neal was very cognizant of.
He steps cautiously and lightly, feeling with his feet for any kind of resistance that there shouldn't be, in hopes he can pull back before triggering anything.
The thumping is coming from the master bedroom, so Neal heads in that direction, feeling his way very slowly as he goes.
His heart thumps in his chest, he is acutely aware of each 'flub-dub' it makes and it sets his skin crawling, you shouldn't be able to FEEL your heart beating, like that. He can hear the blood pounding in his ears and it is as if he can HEAR his heart as well.
His adrenalin is pumping like wild, it is the only thing that has prevented him from passing out from the pain, but still it's an uncomfortable feeling
He takes a deep breath and attempts to calm his body, he is usually much better at it than this, but then again, while he has been in some tight jams before, he has never faced a situation quite like this.