"How did they get infected so quickly?" He mused aloud.

"I don’t know." Laura responded. "Normally it should take a few days for an infection to develop. Even with a little dirt still in the wound, his immune system should have…" her voice trailed off momentarily. "Oh, my God." She whispered, sitting back on her heels.

"What is it, honey?"

"Joe’s spleen has been removed." Laura replied recalling what Dr. Sydney Greene had told them about the emergency measures taken in the operating room to save Joe’s life after he had been tortured by Keith Rashman. She turned to her husband, fear in her eyes. "Dr. Greene said they had to remove his spleen or he would have bled to death internally."

"Yes, so?" Fenton said, puzzled, not understanding what that had to do with the current situation. It had taken several months, but other than the scars on his left arm that would be a permanent reminder of his hellish ordeal, Joe had completely recovered from the numerous injuries he had sustained at the hands of Rashman. "She said people could live a perfectly normal life without a spleen."

"She also said they’re more susceptible to infection." Laura reminded him, looking at Joe. "His body can’t fight off this infection on it’s own. He needs to be on antibiotics."

"All the more reason to get out of here tonight." He replied, putting an arm around his wife. "Don’t worry," he said hugging her tightly as they stared at their son, "we’ll get him out of here and get him whatever he needs. I promise."

As the hours passed, Joe became more restless, finally awakening later in the evening. Recalling the disaster eating half a sandwich at lunch had been Joe passed on the sandwich his mother had saved him for dinner, although he did ask for water.

Fenton took the cap off a bottle of water and started to hand it to Joe, only to be stopped by his wife.

"Let me take your temperature first." Laura said, eyeing Joe critically. Before he could protest, Laura was in front of him holding out the thermometer.

Opening his mouth, Joe found he was too hot and tired to care about objecting. A moment later, he watched as Laura frowned at the reading.

"What is it now?" Fenton asked, handing the bottle of water to Joe.

"102.6." She replied disapprovingly.

Joe took several large gulps of water and then leaned back against the wall, holding the cool bottle against his forehead. "Don’t worry, I’ll be fine." He mumbled. "How soon before we move?"

"The guards should be here in about an hour to check on us for the final time tonight." Fenton replied checking his watch.

"Two of them plus Jarrell?" Joe asked, the fever making his memory a little fuzzy.

"No, just the two guards. Jarrell doesn’t usually come at night." Fenton answered a little concerned that Joe couldn’t remember the details they’d discussed earlier. "Joe, if you’re not up to this-"

"I am." Joe replied a little too quickly. "All I have to do is look sick and get off one right hook. Piece of cake." He smiled weakly. "No problem, Dad."

While Fenton had serious doubts about Joe’s prediction, he knew they had no other choice and sat back to wait.

Less then an hour later, just as Joe was settling himself into position, they heard a key in the lock. As Fenton held Joe’s knife loosely in his hand, he and Laura took their places hovering over Joe. When the two guards entered the room, Laura turned to look at them, panic in her eyes.

"Please help us!" She cried out, motioning towards Joe. "I can’t wake him up!"

"What do you want us to do?" The tall dark haired guard shrugged as a shorter, red haired man peered through the bars at Joe curiously.

"He needs a doctor! He won’t wake up!" Fenton responded angrily.

"Please!" Laura wailed. "Please help us! You can’t let him die!"

The tall guard looked at his companion. "The boss does want him alive for now. Maybe we can wake him up."

As he inserted the key into the cell door, the shorter man pulled out a gun and waved it at Laura and Fenton. "You two just back up against the wall and don’t move, or I’ll put Blondie out of his misery permanently."

Laura and Fenton did as ordered as the two guards entered the cell and cautiously approached Joe. "Hey!" The red haired man yelled looking down on Joe. "Wake up!"

When Joe remained still, the taller man kicked him in the side lightly. Biting his tongue so as not to cry out when the man’s boot made contact with his injured ribs, Joe was able to stay motionless.

Watching as the guard kicked Joe, Laura automatically started to move as her mother’s primary instinct to protect her children at all costs took over. Feeling a tug on the back of her blouse, she came to an abrupt halt, knowing Fenton had pulled her back. Standing helplessly, she glared at the two guards.

Suddenly Joe moved his head and began to mumble incoherently.

"What’d he say?" The first guard asked.

"Beats me." The second responded.

"Hey!" The first man leaned down. "Speak up!" He demanded, slapping Joe on the cheek.

Mustering what little strength he had, Joe lashed out, his right fist a blur, and connected solidly with the man’s jaw sending him to the floor in a heap. Joe, however, wasn’t able to enjoy his small victory. The sudden movement and jolting stop had sent a wave of pain shooting through his ribs so intense Joe saw stars. Feeling his head start to swim and his stomach begin to churn, Joe pulled his knees in and curled up in the fetal position, oblivious to the chaos going on around him.

‘Don’t throw up. Don’t pass out.’ Joe squeezed his eyes shut tightly, repeating the two commands to himself over and over.

While Joe focused all his energy on simply trying to remain conscious, Laura and Fenton sprang into action. The guard Joe had punched was stunned, but not out. As he reached for his gun, Laura picked up the heavy metal bucket off the floor and rushed forward. Bringing her arms back to gain momentum, she swung the bucket forward hitting the man square in the forehead. Raising the bucket for a second blow, she watched as he toppled backwards and lay still on the cement floor.

The second Joe had let loose with a punch, Fenton jumped the other guard, wrapping one arm around his neck and grabbing the mans gun hand with the other. Forcing them against the cement wall, Fenton slammed the mans hand hard into the cement wall until the gun fell from his grasp and clattered to the floor. With one touch the pocketknife flashed open and Fenton pressed it to the mans neck.

Feeling the razor sharp, cold steel against his skin, the man immediately stopped struggling. In one fluid movement, Fenton spun the man around and punched him in the face. The mans head snapped back, hit the wall and he fell to the floor unconscious.

Ripping the towels into several long strips, Fenton and Laura had the two men bound and gagged in minutes. Immediately, Fenton turned his attention to Joe.

"Joe? Joe, are you all right?" He asked, leaning over Joe’s curled up body.

Through the haze of pain, Joe heard his father’s voice. Focusing on the sound, Joe reached out with one hand. "Help…me…up…"

Gritting his teeth, Joe let out one small whimper of pain as Fenton pulled him to a standing position as gently as possible. Holding onto his father, Joe opened his eyes, instantly regretting it as the room started to spin. Grabbing the last plastic bag from the First Aid kit, Laura held it for Joe as he was sick. Tossing it aside with the others, she wiped his face with a wet towel, looking at her husband with concern. Cautiously opening one eye, Joe saw the exchange between his parents.

"I’m okay, Mom." Joe croaked hoarsely.

"The hell you are." Laura muttered frustrated at not knowing who to direct her anger at.

"Let’s go before anyone comes down to check on them." Fenton said nodding at the two men sprawled on the floor. As Fenton supported Joe, who was leaning heavily against him, Laura picked up the First Aid Kit, two blankets, a few towels and as many bottles of water as she could carry and led them out of the cell.

Poking her head out the open door, she signaled that the hall was clear. As Fenton and Joe stepped out of the room, Fenton noticed a small table set up with snacks, drinks, playing cards and a radio.

"Good." He murmured. "They must have been just settling in to watch us for the night. No one will know we’re gone until morning."

"Look!" Laura whispered loudly, pointing to a backpack lying on the floor. She grabbed it and stuffed as much of her load into it as possible, and then once again led her husband and son down the hall. Stopping at an open doorway, she looked inside and her eyes lit up. Smiling, she turned to Fenton and motioned for him to take a look. As he peered into the room, he saw a workbench. Neatly laid out on top of it was an assortment of tools, rope, handcuffs, duct tape, a knife, and several flashlights.

Laura swiftly scooped up the rope, handcuffs, duct tape, knife and two flashlights adding them to the backpack. Continuing on, they came to the end of the hall where Laura cautiously opened the door. Looking up into the darkness, she turned on one of the flashlights and shone it in front of her. Several cement steps led up to two angled wooden doors. Standing in the stairwell, Laura felt a cool breeze and realized the doors led directly outside. They’d been held captive in an old fashioned storm cellar!

Quietly, she crept to the top of the stairs and pushed one of the doors up just enough to look out. Peering around she saw nothing but trees and overgrown vegetation. Motioning for Fenton and Joe to follow, she pushed the door all the way open and climbed out. Placing the backpack and blankets on the ground, she helped Fenton maneuver Joe through the opening, who had all ready become even more unsteady on his feet.