Numeric ID: 14 Date Submitted: 8 APR 2001 Idea By: MichelleA Written By: MichelleA mail to: /dev/null I wondered if it could be Jim's dad returning. He should be at the airport or on his way home. As I got to the door, I looked through the peephole, but couldn't see anyone. Fumbling with the door lock, I finally managed to unlock and open the door. Keeping my eyes open against the full glare of the sun was nearly impossible. I could just make out the outline of someone. It definitely wasn't Jim's dad. She looked like... like someone I knew. At this point, I heard a voice say, "BRAD?" My body inconveniently picked this point to pass out. Sometime later, I awoke in bed. Surprise surprise, my bladder was sending me urgent signals, again. As I lay there, I wondered if I had really seen someone or not. I tried to yell to see if anyone was around. All that came out was a high pitched squeak. No one answered me. Nature called again, so I crawled out of bed and wobbled over to the bathroom to do my duty. I finally finished with nature and my medicine while trying to make sense out of my dream. Tottering back to bed, I sucked down more liquid and then passed out again. Later Jim woke me up to see if I needed anything before he left. "Hey, Steph are you OK? I just returned from the airport and Dad is on his way home." "What's with the `Steph' stuff?" I asked. "Sorry Brad, force of habit I guess," said Jim. I then told him about my dream. He immediately left the room and made rummaging noises around the rest of the place. Returning to the bedroom, Jim said, "I've looked all over the place and don't see any evidence that anyone else has been here. Besides, the front door was locked when I came in, just as it should have been. I think you're right, it was just a dream. Unless you need something right away, I have to go to class. I have an English Lit make-up final in about an hour," said Jim. With that, Jim left for class and I passed out again. When I next returned to the Land of the Living Dead, I felt a vaguely familiar sensation. It was hunger. Overriding that was an even more urgent need. I attempted to race to the bathroom, if you can call the speed of continental drift racing? Downing my pills, I then went in search of sustenance. As I entered the kitchen, I noticed that there was food already set out. On closer examination, I found a sandwich already made, in a baggy. It was not just any sandwich, though. It was my favorite. A ham, bologna, and turkey with Swiss and cheddar cheese on sliced wheat bread. A sandwich made just the way I like them, starting with the type of bread and meat to the condiments. Even the diagonal cut I so desired as a child. Silently thanking Jim for his thoughtfulness, I ate the entire sandwich and toddled off to bed again. As I lay there, drifting off to sleep, I realized that Jim had cleaned the kitchen and had a load of wash in the dryer, too. He must be going domestic on me. Steve seems to be having that kind of gentling effect on Jim. Later, I awoke from the noise of Jim finishing changing clothes. "Hey Steph...ah Brad," said Jim. "I'm late for a date with Steve. You shouldn't have cleaned the kitchen and done laundry, but thank you anyway. Gotta go. Later, Bye." As my mind caught up with what Jim had just said, I thought, "Whoa, wait a minute. If Jim didn't do the cleaning and I didn't do it either, then who did? This was getting weird." I drifted off to sleep with no answers. The next conscious thought I had was the annoying hammering on the door. At least to me it was annoying. As I slipped out of bed, I wondered, "How can something be that loud?" I hoped that I could quell the incessant pounding on the door before the building pressure in my bladder was too much. With these thoughts, I dashed like a snail to the door. As I peeked out again, I still couldn't see anything. I thought to myself, "Damn useless peephole thingies." As soon as I unlocked the door, the door slammed into me and bounced me across the floor. I managed to hold on to consciousness long enough to hear, "That's her, Sam." I awoke to a throbbing headache and a tremendous urge to piss. As I tried to get out of bed to solve both problems, I discovered that my hands and feet were tied. With that recognition dawning, I heard that same voice say, "She's awake, Sam." I kept my eyes closed and tried to think. I only got as far as `my head hurts, I have to piss and I'm tied up.' I opened my eyes and my bladder urged me to say, "I really have to go to the bathroom." "Too bad," said that unnamed voice. So I said, "If you don't untie me, real soon, the flood gates are going to open and make Noah's flood look like a spring rain." "Sam, what do I do?" said my yet unnamed captor. "George, untie her and take her to the bathroom, of course. Do I have to think for you too," said Sam with exasperation showing in his voice. George tried to quickly untie me. The best I could say for his speed was `fumble fingers'. As I hobbled to the bathroom, I asked, "Would it be too much to ask for some privacy while in here?" Sam replied, "George, let her be, she has nowhere to run to." As I sat there, I tried to imagine who they thought I was. The only answer that made any sense, to me, didn't make any sense at all. Lisa was the only one that was ever near this place. Jim has no female friends that ever come around here. Since we had moved into this condo, Lisa has been the only female to ever come here. To continue this line of thought was difficult and painful. I guess I was dreaming this morning when I thought I saw her. Thinking brought no answers, so I began to clean up. George's shout, "What is taking you so long in there?", startled me. I answered, "FUCK YOU! I've been sick and keep falling asleep!" At that, George broke in the door. He grabbed me bodily and carted me to the bed. Being thrown on the bed isn't that bad, as long as you can miss the headboard. Through the pain I asked, "Who are you, and what do you want?" For answer, George reached over and backhanded me across the face. It was a good time to be unconscious, and my body co- operated. As I regained awareness, my face began to hurt. My hands and feet ached from being tied again. This was becoming a real pain, in several places. Peeking through my eyelids, I saw Sam trying to make a phone call. Apparently he wasn't getting an answer, and was starting to get pissed. Hoping to find out what was going on, I finally asked Sam, "What do you want with me?" Sam turned around, saying, "Shut up bitch." I almost didn't hear the bitch part because he hit me in the jaw. Then all I saw was a single star before everything turned black again. My next awareness was of Sam shaking me saying, "Wake up, bitch." I asked, "What are you doing?" Sam answered, "We are taking you to the boss, your daddy got away but you won't." "I'm sick and I need my medicine. I'm no good for anything like this," I complained. "OK, OK, if it seems reasonable to me, we'll take what you need," said Sam. "We're in a hurry so grab what you need." Wobbling over to the dresser, I decided that they obviously thought I was someone else and wouldn't believe anything different. I couldn't let them find out I wasn't even a woman. I picked out a pair of blue jeans, a light green blouse, a matching bra and panties set and some cotton socks. As I picked out each item, I casually threw them on top of Jim's new hands-free phone adapter. Maybe I could find a use for this later. Luck and chance would tell. With my clothes carefully wrapped around the adapter, I progressed on to the bathroom. I dressed, carefully hiding my little secret in my bra. Next I took my pills and collected my assorted bottles to go. I then re-entered the bedroom. We left by the back door. George's knife in my back and a threat in my ear was enough to keep me silent. It was dark outside as we approached their car. They put my things in the back seat and threw me in the trunk. As cramped and uncomfortable as the trunk was, I was unable to stay awake any longer. I welcomed the blessed embrace of unconsciousness. I awoke with numerous aches and pains. I could tell that we were still traveling from the motion of the car. Despite the urge to pee, I knew that I would have to wait or suffer the embarrassment of pissing all over myself. Without a change of clothes, or even a shower, the possibility of an accident concerned me. From the passenger compartment, I could hear Sam and George talking but couldn't understand much of what I heard. Occasionally, I could also hear the sounds of a police scanner. Mom had one at home to listen to calls for Dad. Unusual acoustics made that possible, despite the speaker mounting in the passenger compartment. I tried feeling around for a weapon in the trunk, but to no avail. It amazed me that I was able to find anything at all with both my hands and feet tied again. All I found was a map case. Inside, it felt like there were two maps, some stickers, and a dull stubby pencil. I don't know why I held on to it. It wasn't even much good as a pencil. After expending all my energy in a fruitless search, I again passed out. George rudely awakened me by shaking my shoulder. "You have 2 minutes to use the bathroom. There is no one around and I will check the bathroom for any notes left behind," said Sam. George untied my hands and feet, and then easily picked me up out of the trunk. After setting me on my feet, he roughly pushed me toward the women's restroom. Looking around, I saw that we were at a traveler's rest stop in the middle of nowhere, as far as I could tell. Entering, I made a beeline to the nearest stall and relieved myself. The pleasure of relief was momentary as the reality of my situation came crashing down. As I sat there, I tried to figure a way out of this situation. An idea began to form in my head. It wouldn't be enough by itself, but it certainly wouldn't hurt to try it. Taking some tissue paper and my stubby pencil, I wrote a note for someone to call the police. `Being held by 2 persons' I wrote. Then I wrote the license number and description of the car. Hastily, I added Jim's phone number. At this time George pounded on the door saying, "If you're not out here in one minute, I will drag your butt out myself." I cleaned up and rearranged my clothes and left the stall. I placed my note under a couple of paper towels and then began washing my hands. Just then George walked in. I asked, "Do you have anything to drink in the car, or should I get a drink out of the sink?" "We've wasted enough time here as it is," said George angrily. "You can get a drink later. Come now or I drag you." As we left the bathroom, I looked closely at the car, spotting the police scanner antenna. Luckily the antenna had been mounted on the right rear fender. I just prayed that what that Navy guy from biology class said was the truth. He told me about some of the pranks that he had pulled. He said `if you took a soft lead pencil and drew a heavy lead line across the rubber insulator of an antenna, it would short the signal to ground. Of course you had to do it just right to make sure that the lead was a continuous line from antenna to chassis.' Leaning against the car, with the antenna at my back, I tried to draw a line as described. A better idea would be to push a pin through the insulation of the coaxial cable, if I had a pin. Unfortunately no one left one in the trunk for me. Much too soon, Sam was telling George to tie me up and put me back in the trunk. I felt exhausted. I tried to get as comfortable as possible (not very) and then passed out. I awoke to the two doors slamming, followed shortly by the glare of light from the trunk light. George untied me and helped me out of the trunk. This time I could tell that we were in a two-car garage. The large door was just closing, but I could tell it was near dawn by the faint light from outside. George roughly guided me through the door and into a bedroom. After using the bathroom and downing my pills, I returned to the bedroom and lay down. As soon as I lay down, George started tying my hands and feet again. As I lay there pretending to sleep, I heard Sam say, "Why doesn't the boss answer his phone? We have the girl but how are we supposed to tell him if he doesn't answer the damn phone?" "How should I know, Sam?" complained George. "I don't know anything more than you do. I'm more concerned about why that police scanner doesn't work anymore. It quit working after that rest stop. I would suspect that girl of something, if I didn't know she wasn't anywhere near it. We need that to help us avoid the police and any traps they set," whined George. George had tied my hands in front of me. Turning over I looked behind and under the headboard. Sure enough, there was the phone jack. Why on earth do people install phone jacks and wall sockets exactly where the bed goes? The reason eludes and confuzzles me no end. Taking the hands-free phone from my bra I plugged it in and listened for a dial tone. For once it was a comforting sound. Now, who do I call? I don't know where I am. I could be in any of ten other states or still in Texas. Is it just that easy to call the local cops? I dialed 911 and very quickly was talking to an operator. I gave her all the information that I had personal info such as name and address. Then I gave her the description of Sam and George and what had happened. I told her that I was concerned that someone might pick up the phone at anytime so I said goodbye and if I had a chance that I would call back. I then decided to call Jim. "Hello?" said Jim's voice. "Jim, this is Brad." Jim started to ask a million questions, "Brad, are you all right? Are you hurt? Where are you?..... "Shut up, Jim." I whispered, but I wanted to scream. "Does this number show on Caller ID?" I asked. "I'm held captive and may not have much time to talk." "Yes, it shows," said Jim. "We knew that you had been kidnapped, but no one has sent a note or anything. Agent Franklin from the FBI is here and wants to know everything you can tell him." I then quietly narrated everything I knew, including having called the local police. They assured me that they had a trace plus the phone number. In addition, a civic-minded citizen had found my note and had called the police. They had just received that call less than 30 minutes before I called. Before I hung up, I also had the cell phone number for the FBI agents working the case. I unplugged my hands-free phone and put it back in my bra. `Someone wasn't going to be happy in a while', I thought to myself. With that thought, and a smile on my face, I went to sleep. The morning sun, through the bedroom window, awakened me. I could hear some sounds from the living room, so I knew Sam or George was awake. I got out my phone and plugged it in, making sure the ringer was off. Before I could start to dial, someone picked up another phone and started dialing. I thought, `if I hang up, I'll be heard.' So I covered the microphone and just listened. After several rings, someone on the other end answered. "Fergeson residence, may I help you," said a very formal English voice. "Roberts, this is Sam. Let me talk to the your boss. It's urgent." "The master is asleep, sir," was Roberts's reply. "It doesn't matter. I said it was urgent," said an exasperated Sam. "Very Well, sir. It will take a few minutes to wake him. Please hold while I attend to your request," replied Roberts. It seemed like 5 or 10 minutes before another voice came on the line. A very angry voice, from the sound of it. I don't think he was accustomed to be awakened this early in the morning. "Why are you calling me? I thought I told you not to use this number unless it was an emergency," said the voice. "Mr. Fergeson, I tried the other number and received no answer. I can't figure out what happened to Ralph and Bruno. I didn't call about that anyway, Boss. We picked up the girl yesterday, and have her at the lake house." "Keep her there. Were you seen by anyone?" asked Fergeson. "No, it was a piece of cake. She was at her boyfriend's condo. Just like you thought," said Sam. "You've done well, Sam. Better than those two bumblers Ralph and Bruno have. They let the girl's father slip right through their hands. Amateurs, pure amateurs," said Fergeson. "Now I will send the ransom note to her father and demand payment. In fact, this may be better. He may care nothing for his own safety, but his only daughter should be another matter entirely. "Well done, Sam. I will be in touch with you two, later. If this works, there will be a bonus for you. Share it with George, if you like. Goodbye." With that said, Fergeson hung up. A few seconds later, Sam also hung up the phone. I hastily hid the phone and feigned sleep. I was fearful that Sam would come in and find me on the phone. Moments later I heard the lock turn in the door. I could hear the door open and someone walk into the room. After a few minutes, I heard a grunt and the door was closed and locked again. A few minutes later, I dug out the phone while hoping that Sam wouldn't try to call anyone else. When I heard the dial tone, I called the number the FBI agent had given me. "Franklin here," I heard. "This is Stephanie. Sam just called his boss. His name is Fergeson. He must be rich because a butler answered the phone. His butler's name is Roberts," I whispered. "How close are you?" "We're almost there. It will take us a little while longer for all our people to get into position," Agent Franklin informed me. "We'll start working on the Fergeson name and try to trace the phone number through the telephone company records. If it was a long distance call, we will have the record for evidence. What is your location in the house?" "I'm in a back bedroom on the lake side of the house. It has blue and green curtains that are half way open. It's a very high window, so I can't climb out of it," I responded. I answered a few more questions but was afraid that someone might use the phone so I said goodbye and hung up the phone and put it away. I had been fighting sleep for a while so I just let it come on and fell asleep. The splintering of the front door awakened me. Sam and George stood up from where they were sitting in my room. George pulled a knife and Sam reached for a gun in his back pocket. Just then, several men in S.W.A.T. gear piled through the bedroom door, knocking George down. I saw Sam with the gun almost out of his pocket. I started to scream, but the gunfire drowned me out as they blew Sam to pieces. I tried to move away from Sam as much as I could. All I managed was to get tangled in the bed sheets, fall out of bed, and hit my head on the nightstand. Jim woke me with a gentle voice. "Steph, wake up. Are you OK?" I said, "I don't know. I just hurt all over. What is going on? All I remember is getting tangled with the sheets," I said. At that point, Lisa walked in, and I thought I was dreaming again. "Lisa? What are you doing here?" I said. "It's a long story, but I'll give you the short version for now," she said. "Do you remember the problems Daddy was having at the plant?" she asked. "Yes, some kind of faulty equipment, wasn't it?" I said. "That's what we thought at first, but then there was an attempt to kidnap Daddy," said Lisa. "That was the night you asked me to marry you. When I got home I was on Cloud Nine. Daddy called and told me that I had to be at his house right away with no explanation. As soon as I arrived we all went into hiding. That idiot agent wouldn't let me call you, even once, all the time we were there." "Yesterday they captured the two responsible for the kidnap attempt," said Lisa. "They're both in custody now. I was going to surprise you, but you certainly surprised me. After I put you to bed, I went to tell my old roommate Susan that I was back and to try to find out what was going on. After visiting her, I went to Steve's place to ask him what was going on. I later returned to see how you were doing. Bachelors! What a mess that place was. I cleaned up the place and then went to get my stuff from Susan's. Just as I returned, I saw those two thugs enter the condo. I waited a long time for them to come out. I called the police, but by the time they arrived you were long gone." About this time a man walked up and identified himself as Special Agent Franklin. After a few minutes chat he asked if I was able to make a statement at that time I gave him a complete statement, including why I was dressed the way I was. He already knew but it was required for the record. I figured by the time George found a shyster lawyer, Brad, not Steph, would be around for the trial. I had reached my endurance limit again. This time with my love at my side I was put in an ambulance for a trip to the hospital and a check up to make sure that there were no ill effects form the ordeal. I allowed myself to slip peacefully to sleep.