The mind games Joe had been playing with himself in an effort to keep his thoughts otherwise occupied were no longer working. While thinking of Vanessa had previously given him strength, it now only served to remind him of the hell she must be going through, not knowing what had happened to him. Whereas thoughts of Frank had been accompanied by hope of rescue, now they were reminders of how much abuse Joe had already endured and forced him to acknowledge the worst was probably yet to come.

Joe tried to block out the voice in his head that insisted on telling him he was going to die long before his brother found him, but it grew louder by the second. As Joe watched, Rashman got up from his seat in front of the campfire and approached. Joe could swear he heard the voice in his head laughing at him.

"My associate and I are going to catch a few hours of sleep. But I don’t want you to get lonely so these little guys are going to keep you company." The man said with a smile, apparently amused at Joe’s inability to stop shivering.

He held the glass jar up so Joe could get a good look at what was inside. Involuntarily, Joe’s eyes grew huge and his heart seemed to leap into his throat.

"Now as long as you remain perfectly still, these little critters won’t bother you at all."

As he watched Rashman slowly unscrew the lid, Joe understood what the second dose of water was for. Shivering and shaking as he was, there was no way he could possibly remain still.

"But if you keep shaking and chattering like that, you’ll get them all worked up. When that happens they feel a need to defend themselves."

Joe swallowed hard, wanting desperately to control the fear that clutched at his heart.

"You know there are over 1,000 known species of these. It’s a popular misconception that they are all deadly. In reality only about twenty of them cause death in humans." Rashman paused for a beat, making sure he had Joe’s full attention before he continued with a taunting smile. "I don’t really remember which species are in this jar. I do know that when any of them decide to sting, it’s excruciatingly painful. In any case, if you are stung by one of the deadly species, as long as you relax and remain calm, your chances of dying from the venom are relatively small."

‘He’s bluffing. None of them are poisonous. If I’m dead I can’t tell them what they want to know.’ Joe tried to console himself, his eyes still riveted on the jar and it’s occupants.

With that, Rashman very slowly raised the jar and tilted it over Joe’s head, allowing the occupants to scramble to freedom in Joe’s tangled, wet hair. Try as he might, Joe couldn’t help but flinch when the numerous legs scampered over his head, sending a chill down his spine.

"Just try not to get them too upset and you’ll all get along just fine." Rashman took the now obligatory picture, made his way back to the campfire and crawled into the warm cocoon of his sleeping bag.

For the first time since this nightmare began, Joe felt tears spring to his eyes as he silently prayed for divine intervention to get him through this latest horror. He felt as though he was reaching the end of his rope and he knew it wouldn’t take much for him to completely give up.

Desperately trying to control his shaking body and chattering teeth, Joe could feel the undersized, yet potentially deadly creatures slowly feeling their way along his scalp, searching for the quickest route off their newfound perch. As one of the small pests tumbled from his head and righted itself on his bare shoulder, Joe flinched once more, cursing himself for his inability to control the shudders that coursed through his body. This latest round of terror had barely begun and Joe was already starting to panic in a big way. He wasn’t at all sure he could maintain any semblance of control until every single one of the creepy-crawly forms had found their way off his body.

He hadn’t been able to get a good look at exactly how many scorpions had been in the jar before Rashman removed it from his line of sight. He could feel at least two still tentatively making their way through his hair; one resting quite comfortably on his shoulder and another that was now attempting to crawl onto his outstretched hand. A small cry escaped his throat as he realized that one must have fallen onto the fence behind him. As the tiny legs made their way along the soft skin of his arm, Joe felt the anxiety building fast and furious inside him, and wondered how many more had yet to discover he was there.

Without warning, his over active imagination suddenly turned on him. Joe felt as if his body was covered with crawling insects. With his imagination running wild, Joe could no longer control the panic, resulting in a violent shudder that racked his body.

Almost immediately, Joe felt a sharp, stinging sensation in his right shoulder that burned like liquid fire. Not wanting Rashman to know his plan had succeeded so quickly, Joe bit his lip to keep from crying out and tasted blood. The inferno in his shoulder hadn’t even reached its peak yet when Joe was hit with a second unbearably agonizing sting near his wrist. Joe gasped in pain. The blood in his veins felt as if it were beginning to boil. As he inhaled sharply, his lungs screamed in protest.

Finding himself on the edge of a full-blown panic attack, Joe violently shook his head, hoping the two creatures that had yet to escape his tangled mass of hair would be flung into the darkness. He pulled his right arm as far forward as the chain would allow before slamming it back against the fence. Watching as the two remaining scorpions were ejected into the night, Joe sagged back, only slightly relieved. Within seconds, the intensity of the blazing inferno in his arm increased dramatically.

Collapsing back against the fence post, Joe could no longer keep the tears from flowing. Many times in his life, he had wondered what his own personal breaking point was. With a muffled cry, he knew tonight was the night he would find out for sure. As he choked back the sobs that wanted to escape, the ones he didn’t want his captors to hear, Joe began to cough, causing his lungs to feel as if they would explode, and wasn’t surprised to find himself spitting out a mouthful of blood.

‘You promised, Frank.’ Joe thought despondently. For the first time in his life, Joe began to doubt whether his older brother could keep his promise. ‘God, please help me…’

Several yards away, warm and content in his sleeping bag, Keith Rashman lay wide awake, listening to the tell tale sounds of Joe’s suffering.

‘This one’s for you, big brother.’ He smiled.

Closing his eyes, Rashman heard Joe’s muffled cries of anguish break the eerie quiet of the cold night. His only regret was that Fenton Hardy was not here to witness firsthand the torment he had brought upon his youngest son. The numerous pictures he had taken would have to do. Despite Joe’s best efforts to be strong and keep his fear and agony hidden, Rashman knew it was now just a matter of time before Joe Hardy would break.