Fenton and Frank rushed forward and knelt beside him. Frank quickly took out his pocketknife and cut the bonds loose, gasping when he saw the still bleeding marks they had caused.

"'Frank," Fenton said hoarsely, "Call 911 and tell them to hurry."

Frank swiftly dialed 911, and quickly explained the situation to them. Fenton meanwhile was pulling out blankets from the car for Joe. Joe was like ice to touch as he was still in the thin shirt and pants he’d worn at the hospital the night before plus a stiff cold wind was blowing. Fenton didn’t want to move him around before the EMTs came. He’d noticed the bruises all over his son’s body.

Frank entered the abandoned house, went over to the sink, and wet a piece of cloth he found lying near it. He then sat down on the porch gingerly so as to not put too much weight on his injured ankle, and gently applied the wet cloth to his brother’s battered face trying to wake him up. Doing so, his fingers encountered a massive lump on the side of Joe’s head. His lips tightened.

"He’s hurt his head," he informed his father, who was carefully tucking the blanket around Joe’s freezing body, "I think he’s concussed, there’s big bump here."

Fenton looked up in concern, and his eyes fell on the piece of cloth Frank was using.

"Where did you get that?" he asked.

"It was inside, lying under the sink," Frank told him, confused at his father’s sudden interest in the rag, but at the same time piqued.

Fenton didn’t respond. The last time he’d seen that strange shade of silk, it had been a handkerchief used by one of Fred Duerson’s FBI men, the man who was going to take charge of Mrs. Dilmer’s security at her hospital.

* * * * *

Joe heard voices around him. He tried to turn his head, but pain coursed through his body and he stopped. He felt hands on him, and tried to turn away from them, but the pain returned. He wondered why it hurt so bad, but couldn't remember. He heard sirens in the distance, and then passed out.

* * * * *

Frank looked down the road wondering where the ambulance was. He was really worried about Joe and did not like the pale color of his face.

Finally, sirens could be heard in the distance. Glancing at his brother cradled in his father's arms, he wondered why Joe had been beaten so badly. None of it made sense to him, but he silently promised to himself that the one responsible would pay.

When the ambulance pulled to a stop, Frank motioned for them to hurry over. He watched as Fenton reluctantly released his hold on Joe and stepped over beside Frank.

Fenton said without taking his eyes off Joe, "Frank, I want you to ride with your brother. I will be following right behind you. I want you to stay in the examination room with Joe and when he is taken for x-rays, go with him. Neither of you should be apart."

"Dad?" Frank asked, not understanding his father's concern.

Fenton finally looked at Frank. "Promise you will do as I say."

Frank saw the seriousness in his father's eyes. "I promise."

They looked back and saw the paramedics had put a foam collar around Joe's neck and were in the process of securing him to a backboard, then to the gurney. Within minutes they were wheeling him toward the ambulance.

Fenton put his hand on Frank's shoulder and said, "Watch over him."

"I will."

Frank climbed into the back of the ambulance just before the doors closed.

As the ambulance sped off, Frank watched as warm blankets were wrapped around Joe and bandages were applied to the bleeding wounds on his face to stop the flow of blood. Frank took Joe's cold hand in his and hoped he would be all right.

Suddenly, Joe's body lurched and the paramedic said, "He's stopped breathing."

Frank gasped and wished with all his might that Joe would get through this.