The Gillespie Five (A Political / Conspiracy Novel) - Book 1 (42) (4 page)

Without waiting for a response, he hung up.  It had been awhile since he'd gone out with the girls.    He hoped Kikki remembered his favorite poison.  And his
other
preferences. 

Barrett poured another double. 
To the first of many arrests to come,
he thought as he slammed it and headed back to his bedroom to prepare for the girls’ arrival.

Chapter Four

Tommy awoke to the sound and feel of an engine.  His head hurt and he couldn't see anything.  Slowly he began to recall the feel of hands holding him down.  In a panic, he tried to move, only to find that his arms and legs were bound tight.  He kicked out, connecting with something soft, and heard a grunt.  His breath came faster and he suddenly realized that the gag had been removed.

He shouted, "What's going on?  Who are you people?"

A gruff voice yelled, "Shut up back there!"

"Who are you?  Where are you taking me?"

"I
said
shut up or I'll duct tape your mouth shut
for
you!"

He heard another voice murmur something and then others, but could only catch snatches of the conversation over the rumble of the engine.  "Take…quiet…another two hours.  Traitors…questioning." 

The conversation continued in bits and pieces, making no sense to Tommy.  As the time passed, he began to find it harder to breathe.  He
needed
answers.  Opening his mouth to ask another question, he was stopped suddenly when a voice very close to him whispered, "Just be quiet.  They'll leave you and the rest of us alone if you're quiet."

"Us?  Who else is here?"

"I said
shut the fuck up
!"

Tommy cringed.  Trying to control his panic, he forced himself to breathe slowly through his nose and out through his mouth.  He realized that along with the headache, his throat felt swollen and his mouth dry.  After a few breaths, the tightness in his chest began to relax and with it returned some of his ability to think. 

There had to be an explanation for this.  These guys obviously weren't cops.  There were other people in the back with him.   So who were they
? 

Hope dawned sudden and hard as a thought struck him.  He was being hazed.  That had to be it. He
had
applied for the Chi Psi fraternity last week and they had said that they might be in ‘contact’ with him. 

Relief flooded through him.  Of
course,
that was it.  

The realization brought a small, nervous laugh as he began to wonder about what they were planning to do to him and the other initiates.  Part of him wanted to ask more questions but he held his tongue, not wanting to be kicked out before he even had a chance to pass the tests.

His mom's warning's echoed in his head.  '
Don't let them give you too much water or alcohol.  Both can kill you.'
 

He laughed softly.  She was always worried about the craziest things.

Time passed as they drove on and he could feel others beginning to move around, but no one else asked any questions. 
They must have known,
he thought.  There was still something soft and unmoving near his legs.  He decided it was someone who had passed out, probably from drinking too much. 

As they rode, he tried to recall the stories he'd heard of Chi Psi's hazing.  Some had been pretty scary but new rules had been put in place so he wasn't too worried.   He remembered one funny incident in which the initiates were forced to strip down to their underwear and run around the campus shouting insults about themselves.  It might not have been so bad, but it happened during the dead of winter. 

Thankfully its summer
, he thought.

Then he remembered what they had done to a set of initiates a few
summers
ago.  Something that involved hoses and ice cold river water.  He
really
hoped that wasn't the case this
time.  He wasn't overly fond of the cold.

Hours more seemed to pass as they continued driving and eventually he began to doze. The screech of metal woke him with a start.  The vehicle had stopped and they had opened the door, letting in a cool breeze.  Nervous excitement shot through him. 

Let the hazing begin,
he thought.

He heard a voice shout, "Johnson, Bo, Leeman, Harris, each of you take a few men and get the detainees in their cells."

"What about the one still out of it," a deeper voice asked.  "How much did you give that guy anyway?"

"None of your damn business.  Just pick him up and carry him."

A pair of hands reached in and yanked Tommy forward and he asked, "Where are we going?  Are you guys with the Chi Psi fraternity?"

Someone laughed.  "Sure kid.  Not get off your ass and start walking."

He stumbled out of the van and began to slip on the gravel, only to be caught and yanked upright.  They walked for a little ways, someone holding him by each arm, before he heard another door open and he was led through.  He was a little anxious about what was going to happen, but kept telling himself it was just normal initiation.  Lots of people went through this.  Despite his throbbing wrists, he'd be laughing about this tomorrow. 

He heard the door close behind him as someone yanked the hood off his head.  He winced against the sudden onslaught of bright light, stumbling as they pushed him forward.  When his eyes cleared, Tommy noted that he was surrounded by armed guards in green uniforms.  None of them looked like they were in college.

He felt a leaden weight settle in his stomach as he was shoved forward and led down a corridor of white cement walls that reminded him of pictures he had seen of old WWII bomb shelters.  Two of the armed men walked on either side of him, each still holding onto his arms while the third led the way.  He could hear another walking behind.  None looked directly at him.

The corridor was a maze of constant twists and turns and Tommy quickly realized that even if he somehow managed to escape, he wasn't going to find his way back out easily.  Not that it mattered.  Judging by all of the cameras he saw, it wouldn't take them very long to find him anyway.

After what seemed like hours, but was probably minutes, the group finally halted in front of a gray metal door.  The man in front unlocked the door, shoving it open until it slammed into the wall behind it.  He then stepped aside as the two holding Tommy led him inside and cut the zip ties.  Tommy immediately began rubbing his wrists, trying to get some feeling back in his hands, and instantly regretting it as sharp needles of pain shot down his fingers with the returning blood flow.

The man that led the way waited as the other two guards left the room and then turned to Tommy.  "You will receive three meals a day.  You will remain here until someone comes to get you for questioning."  He then stepped back, slamming the door.

Leaping after him, Tommy yelled, "Hey, wait a minute!  Don't I get to talk to someone?  What is going on?  Am I under arrest?"

His only answer was the sound of a bolt sliding into place. Seeing a metal slot in the door that resembled a larger version of a mail drop, he tried to open it with no luck.  "Hey! Don't leave me here! Somebody
answer
me!"

He hammered the door with his fists.  "Someone!  Anyone!  I know my rights!"  He continued until his fists were bruised and his already swollen throat began to ache.  And, still, no one came.

Feeling like he was stuck in a waking dream, he turned to look at his room.  If you could call it a room.  The small, almost closet sized area contained a toilet, a sink with what looked like an unbreakable mirror hanging over it, a shower head with a button beneath it instead of a lever, and below that was a small drain in the floor.  The last thing in the room was a cot on top of which sat a blanket, a set of sheets, a towel and a bag.  There were no windows.  But he also didn't see any cameras.  And it was cold.

Cell. They had called it a cell.  As in jail cell?

Shivering slightly, Tommy walked over to the bed and opened the bag.  Inside he found a comb, toothbrush, toothpaste, bar of soap, roll of toilet paper, shaving cream and safety razors.  Understanding, followed by dread, began to dawn on him.  Not only was this
not
a hazing but, whoever these people were, it seemed like they expected him to be here for a while.

Not knowing what else to do he began to pace the cell, knocking on the concrete walls.  It was something he'd seen in a movie.  The guy was looking for a hollow place.  What he would do if he
did
find a hollow spot he had no idea, but it distracted him from the mounting voice of fear in his head.

When he completed his circuit just a few minutes later, he knew two things.  One, that the walls were all solid concrete and two, his waking daydream was quickly sliding straight into a nightmare.  The fear that had grabbed him from the moment he felt the hand close over his mouth, now slithered deeper.  And he didn’t like it.  A nineteen-year-old had no business being afraid.  He tried to think of what his dad or uncle would do, but came up with nothing. 

His parents probably wouldn't even know he was gone until he didn't call in a few days.  He collapsed on the bed with that thought.  No one would.  He didn't have a roommate yet and he met up with his friends sporadically at best these days.  And his professors would probably just assume he was sick or skipping.  His paper was going to be late, and he was also going to miss tomorrow's Calculus test.  And if his grades dropped below a B average he was going to lose his scholarship as well. 

A flash of his mother’s worried face raced across his mind.  With her weak heart she wouldn’t be able to handle his disappearance.  Angrily, he threw the bag across the cell, letting out a cry of frustration.  He was startled when he heard a scraping sound from the door.

Eagerly he jumped up and rushed over.  "Hello?  Who is it?  When do I get to call someone? 
Hello
?  Damn it! I know you're out there!"

The panel covering the slit opened and a small tray was passed through.  "Come get it," said a male voice.  Tommy walked over and had barely taken hold of the tray before the slot slammed shut again.  He heard retreating footsteps and what sounded like a cart being wheeled away.

The smell of the food and his stomach's rumbling response finally forced Tommy to stop staring at the door.  Suppressing the urge to scream again, he took the tray to his bed.  Lifting the lid he found something he assumed was meant to be potatoes, and a piece of nearly dehydrated brown stuff that he hoped was meat but more closely resembled leather.  There was also a plastic cup of juice.  Gratefully he downed the juice, sighing with the relief the cool liquid brought his parched throat.  He then took a few tentative bites with the plastic fork they'd provided.  He was finished before he realized it. 

Moments later, his eyes began to blur and he found himself yawning fiercely.  He was setting his tray on the floor when a wave of nausea rolled through him.  The last thing he felt was his head hitting something cold and hard, and then he was out.

He awoke to the grating sound of metal on metal and a bark of, "Food!"

Groggily he shook his head, trying to clear it, and instantly regretted it as pain exploded in the front of his head.   

"Food!"

Where was that voice coming from? 

He realized he was lying on something hard but couldn't figure out what.  Pushing himself up, Tommy blinked several times, trying to focus and then realized he was on the floor of a strange room.  His head pounded and he tried to swallow against the dryness in his mouth.

The voice barked again.  "You've got five seconds to decide if you want food."

Food.  Where was he?  Why couldn't he think?
 

His stomach growled.  Still disoriented, he stood up and moved to the door where a tray of food was waiting.  Suddenly, his memories came flooding back. 

"Hey.  When can I talk to someone?  Where am I?"

"Tray."

His foggy brain took a moment to process the single word.  He reached for the proffered tray only to have it snatched back. 

"Tray."

As more memories returned, he realized the voice was asking for the old tray.  He shuffled over to pick it up and take it to the door.  As he passed it through the slot, he shouted, "Hey! 
Please
!  Where am I?  Why am I here?"  He gritted his teeth against the pounding in his head.

The old tray was taken and the tray of food reappeared.  As he took it, the panel slid shut with a bang.  A moment later, he again heard the sound of something being wheeled away and the echo of receding footsteps.

Not knowing what else to do, he ate the bland food and then put the sheets and blanket on the cot and lay down, staring up at the ceiling. 

The next meal came with a bundle of cloth.  He opened the bundle to find a dull, white top and pant set that closely resembled hospital scrubs.  After eating, he checked once more for cameras and then stripped to take a shower and shave.  He chattered in the icy water but felt slightly better for doing something familiar. 

The routine continued the next day, with three meals being delivered and still no answers.  At one point he began to pace his cell, noting it measured just a little over seven by nine feet.  With nothing else to do, he began sleeping more frequently but, eventually, the bright and buzzing florescent light began to make sleep difficult.