Battle the Dark: Chapter 22

Starr entered the penthouse and listened to the quiet.  "Mom?"  She removed her spring jacket, and placed it on the desk.  She looked at her father's keys, lying on the desktop, as was customary, and tears filled her eyes.

Sister Rebecca Katherine, to Starr's surprise, came running down the stairs quietly.  "Good morning, dear.  I'm Sister Rebecca Katherine, a friend of your father and mother."

Dad's got a serious nun thing going.  "Hello, I'm Starr."

"Yes, you are.  I've seen your picture all over the house and he's described you to a tee.  Such a beautiful young image of your parents."

"Thank you."  She paused, "Is my mother here?"

Sister Rebecca Katherine walked closer to Starr.  "Yes, she is, dear heart."

"Is she...did he hurt her, that crazy maniac that was here?"

"I would say yes, he did, because he took your father away in front of her.  Her wounds, she hasn't mentioned them or herself once.  She's concerned for him 's all.  It's all she has been thinking and crying about for the last hours."

Starr swallowed, and cried, "I can't believe he's gone, again."

The nun put her arms around Starr, and hugged her.  "She's going to be all right.  So is your father.  The prayers have power, my dear.  People have stopped believing that, but it's true.  Your family has all of mine."

"Can I see her?"

"Of course you can, I'm not her bodyguard for heaven's sake!  I just have been hanging around here caring for her, because, well, you might not understand me, but your father is like a son to me.  I never had children, obviously.  He means so much to me now.  So does your family.  I promised not to leave her, for some reason, she finds comfort around me."

"I understand that, and I'd never question who they call a friend.  I'm just, I'm upset, I can't sleep, thinking of him...well...back with those men."

"We must have faith.  Think of what your father endured, and he still came back to ya.  He will again.  He has one more little life now to return to, three, if you count your blessed little one and Sam."

Starr was beside herself with tears, thinking of how much Hope loved her grandfather.  "I just want a moment to get myself together.  I don't want Mom to see me this way."

"That's the spirit, you must be strong, that is what your father would do, ay?"

Starr composed herself, and walked up the stairs, going to her parents' bedroom.  Blair was in the dark, lying on the bed, a box of tissues next to her.  As she got closer, Starr noticed that her mother's face was swollen from crying, and that she looked tired and haggard.  She also saw what appeared to be a bandage below her right shoulder, and it was seeping a little and stained with a dark spot of blood.

"Mom?"  Starr said, forgetting all her plans to be strong.  She fell onto Blair, and they both cried.

Blair, through her own sobs, shushed her daughter.  Both of them despairing, Blair could not find the words to comfort her eldest baby, and the daughter could not quell her mother's sadness.  They continued to cry, both of them, and nothing could soothe them.  Then, Sister Rebecca Katherine appeared at the doorway.  "Dears, may I come in?"

Blair said, "Please, please help us."

The sister's heart broke for the two of them, and she went over to them and sat on the bed next to them, and said, "I am not sure what I can do for ya."

"Pray, please, sister," Blair said, crying so hard her eyes were swollen like small eggs.

Sister Rebecca Katherine put their hands into hers.  "Dear Lord, please look after Todd.  Keep him safe, bring him peace and the strength to keep trying to get home.  And Lord, please give his captor a merciful heart as not to hurt him more than he can withstand.  Amen."

***

Timothy Broderick, having made sure that Jessica was not alone at the hospital in wait for a chance to see Devon, entered the Llanview Police Department and proceeded to John McBain's office.  Knocking, he waited for assistance.  "Come in," John called.

Timothy entered the office, and John thought once again to himself how much his face looked like that of Sister Rebecca's.  "Timothy.  What can I do for you?"

"I want to know what you're doing to get Todd Manning home to his family."

"So do I."

"You don't know what you're doing?"

"No, actually I don't."  John threw his papers across the desk, which caused a small avalanche.  "I can't say I've done much.  There are no leads, no witnesses, no clues, nothing on this Michael Leona guy.  He's as much as vanished off the face of the earth, and taken Todd with him."

"I see your frustration, Lieutenant, but it won't help ya much."  He took a flask from his pocket, "Bourbon?"

John refused, "On duty."

Timothy slugged, and then said, "Ah, quite the hair of the dog that bit me.  I want to help, and that is why I am here."

"Well, how can you help?  I'm open to suggestions."

"I have a list, of The Men of 21 and their whereabouts in Ireland.  Will that help ya?"

"Possibly.  Let's go through it together, maybe we can find a way through this."  John appeared disturbed.  "I have to bring these cowards down.  The whole entire group.  Bring out that flask again, will ya?"

***

She was beautiful, in her white penoir with the lace jacket over it, walking across the bedroom to the tub, sprinkling flower petals into the warm water.  He watched her, from the bed, as she readied the water.  She turned to him, and was perfection; her hair was billowing around her shoulders, her angelic face, deep green eyes, and body that he had memorized every curve and flatness of.  She crawled onto the bed, and worked her way up his body with her kisses.  Stopping at his mouth, she leaned down, and he closed his eyes.  When he opened them, The Slice and Dice was leaning over him.  Holding his skinner close to Todd's chest, he said, "Once I slide it in, there's no turning back." 

Todd jumped up, and heaved onto the bed.  His stomach being empty, he wretched, with nothing but water and saliva coming forward.  Without the use of his hands, he wiped his face onto the sheet, and tried to catch his breath.  Between confusion and desperation, he searched his mind to grasp the content of the nightmare he had just awoke from.  Blair, in white.  Tub, our bedroom.  Kissing.  Knife.  What did he want from me?

The door pushed open.  Todd's stomach turned over when he saw The Slice and Dice, holding a tray and his skinner in his hand.  Once I slide it in...

"Good morning, Mr. Manning.  Hungry?  We're moving you, soon.  Say goodbye to the U.S. of A."


Todd looked at him.  "Was I out yesterday?"

"What do you mean?  Not that I have a reason or desire to answer you."

"Was I here, alert, or was I gone, off somewhere."  Todd heard his own voice: raspy, gravelly, rough.

"What, you can't remember?"

I won't.  There's a difference.  "I'm confused.  Not sure."

"I don't have to tell you this."

"This I know."

"You were there, fully, for every enraptured moment."

He played with the idea of trying to call it back up, but feared the outcome.  If he pushed the memory away and fought it, he might win the battle with the dark this time.  Otherwise, his mind might consume him, permanently.  He would be back where he started, locked away in his safe place.  If he lingered there, he might never get home.  He knew he had to combat going catatonic if he was going to get away and get home.  He needed to face whatever came and get free.
   
"So, where are we going?"  Todd asked.

"You really asked that?"  Leona sneered, setting the tray down in front of Todd.  It was there, the same, horrific oversized grin whenever The Slice and Dice smiled or laughed.

As much as he hated and feared the man, disgusted by him, he also needed the nourishment on the tray.  Unlike the white rice and chicken he was served day in and day out for eight years, the tray was loaded with breakfast food:  eggs, sausages, toast, juice, fruit, yogurt and coffee.  The Slice and Dice moved toward Todd to put the napkin under his chin.  He flinched, unsure what the man would do to him, and the skinner was perched between Leona's middle and forefinger as he tucked the napkin into Todd's shirt at the neck.  The tip of the blade nicked Todd's chin.

"Now, I am going to serve you.  If you try anything, I'll cut you, and then leave you here to die and go get your wife.  Trust me, I am certain of that plan."

Todd said, "I don't plan on fighting you."  I have more important things to battle right now.  You're not one of them, for the moment.

The Slice and Dice loaded a fork with food, and fed Todd, slowly, until half the plate was gone.  "Do you want this yogurt?"

"No, you can have it."  Todd said.

"Don't mind if I do,"  he said, "do you want more of this other stuff?"

"Yeah, if you don't mind."  Leona fed him first, until the plate was clean, and then, put the utensils out of Todd's reach, and ate the yogurt.  Todd added, "It's not like I can grab them, you know."

"You have a mouth, don't you?"  His eyes were on Todd as he downed the yogurt and some of the leftover fruit.  "I eat light."

"I don't, unless at Carlo's special restaurant."

"Ah, yes, that place.  We had some thrilling times, you and I."

Todd didn't move.  Sickened, he almost threw up his breakfast, but he fought it, and the dark that was seeping into his vision.  In the distance of his mind, Blair called to him, in her vintage gown, and he heard, clearly, the string quartet behind her.  It was very far away, but he knew where it was.  Shaking his head as if to keep himself awake, he continued to talk with his handler.  "Yeah? What was so thrilling about it?"

They were interrupted by the ringing cell phone in Michael Leona's pocket.  He pulled it out and flipped it open.  "Yes?"  He remained silent the rest of the time he held the phone to his head, until the very end, where he responded, "Will do."

Hanging up, he turned to Todd.  "I'll have to continue this trip down memory lane later.  Right now, have to run.  Have errands to do.  We'll be traveling soon," and he was gone.

Todd sighed.  His hands were numb for being held behind his back so long in the cuffs.  He could barely feel the tips of his fingers, but he was certain his captor was not interested in his comfort.  For a moment, he thought of Blair, the blood coming down the front of her gown; the way Leona was holding her by her hair, and how terrified her eyes were, paled in comparison to the final scream of his name he heard through the door as he left.  He closed his eyes to squeeze out the sound of it in his memory.

His wounds were sore, throbbing and some beginning to itch.  He searched his mind and envisioned the first cut, and the procedure that followed, and he shuddered.  Blackness bled into his sight, and he realized that to really make it through, the battle was on.
        

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