HDA - Living in Darkness Trilogy - Pt 2 - The Search

He tried to roll over and found it totally impossible. He shivered as cold wind blew across his skin, raising gooseflesh and shivers in its path. For a moment, Joe changed his mind and lay still, listening, hearing echoes of old pipes around him, and occasional creaks of old boards settling. He took a deep breath, grateful to no longer be gagged, and luxuriated in the feeling of breath in and out, out and in, in and out. He coughed when he inhaled too much of the musty air but didn’t care. He wasn’t gagged anymore.

Where am I?

He swallowed nervously and cautiously opened his eyes to the darkness, gulping back bile and the urge to gag as he did so. It was so dark here, almost like the last dungeon except wetter. He heard water dripping nearby, splashing solidly into a small puddle formed on the floor and he blinked, clearing cobwebs in his head as he inhaled again.

I don’t think I want to know, he amended his desire to know where he was. From one pit in the ground to another, it seemed like. The great places you bring me to, Derak. Thanks.

“Here,” the soft, gentle, voice sounded in his left ear and he turned his head slightly to see his uncle standing over him – still masked, like that would keep Joe from figuring out his identity. “I brought you something to drink. You must be thirsty by now.”

“Let me go, Derak,” Joe said. “I don’t want to be here.”

A gentle hand caressed his cheek and Joe jerked his head away as fast as he could. His flesh crawled with the touch and he wished for just two seconds untied and alone with this man. It would be all he needed to take the man out and make him pay.

“I love you, Joey,” Derak held a straw to Joe’s lips and Joe paused for a moment to drink. His mouth felt a thousand times better after that and his dry throat felt much less parched. He drank greedily, almost forgetting, for a moment, that he was at the mercy of his captor.

The hand on the chest brought him around and he jerked, knocking the water bottle out of Derak’s hand with his head.

“Now, now, Joey,” Derak chided him. “Love, I’m just trying to take care of you. You’ll see how good it can be. When I know you’ll stay with me forever, I won’t keep you locked up anymore but until then, I’m afraid you’ll have to deal with some inconveniences.”

“I’m never going to love you,” Joe hissed, shifting on the bed where he lay. “I hate you, with everything I have, I hate you. I’m NEVER going to love you!”

“You will,” Derak smiled gently and caressed his nephew’s cheek again. “You’ll see, love. You’ll see.”

“Never,” Joe vowed, softly. “I will never love you.”

He blinked and turned away. He’d already taken so much.

Oh, God, Vanessa, he thought bleakly. I’m so sorry, babe. I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve to die like that. You didn’t deserve to be killed. Just like Iola. I’m jinxed.

He felt a momentary wave of despair sweep through him, crashing down on him so hard he couldn’t fight it off. He struggled, hard, against the chains holding him to the bed, and cursed.

“You’ll just hurt yourself, you know,” Derak spoke again. “Settle down, Joey. You’ll be fine. You’ll see. I’ll take good care of you.”

“Let me go, Derak,” Joe said. “Let me go or I promise you, as soon as you do loosen these chains, you’re dead. I’ll kill you if it’s the last thing I ever do.”

Derak said nothing for a bit; Joe closed his eyes and fought back the wave of misery threatening to crush him. He concentrated on the simple things, like trying to relax or just breathing, in and out, relaxing his toes, his legs, his arms, his chest, using all of those meditation techniques Frank tried to teach him. And he prayed. He prayed like he never prayed before, except when he thought Frank was going to die from leukemia.

No, he thought. I’m not giving up now. He’s not going to beat me.

“I’m going to go now, Joey,” his uncle said, breaking the silence. “I’ll release your chains when I get out of the room. You can look around all you want but you won’t find a way out. There’s a bathroom in the corner with a shower and a wardrobe with clothing – your size. Feel free to make use of it. I’ll send food in later. Get used to it, this is your home for a while.”

Derak smiled and leaned over him for a moment. Joe looked away from him, fighting back the urge to gag when Derak kissed him.

“I’ll see you later, love,” Derak said.

He disappeared from Joe’s line of sight then but, a few minutes later, Joe felt the chains loosen and the shackles click open. He pulled free of them, climbing to his feet and standing woozily beside the bed for a moment. At least he ranked a bed now and not a cold steel table. He shivered, aware of how little clothing he actually wore at the moment, and decided to check out the wardrobe, hoping for something more substantial. His new dungeon was colder than the old one had been and he was going to freeze if he didn’t get something warm soon.

Joe ducked into the bathroom he found in one corner and looked it over, checking, not for the amenities of life, but cameras. He didn’t trust his deranged uncle not to take advantage of the situation and record him in the bathroom, taking a shower or whatever. Once he decided he didn’t see anything resembling a camera, he got undressed and turned on the shower to Hot.

How long has it been since I’ve had a shower? he wondered, briefly.

He sighed and blissfully let the water cascade over him, wishing he could wash away what he felt inside too. He felt dirty, used, unclean, like someone had dumped dirty water all through him. He knew it wasn’t his fault, what had been done to him, but it didn’t help.

Joe found the bar of soap left for him and he used it, scrubbing every inch until he felt more human, then making use of the small bottle of shampoo to scrub his hair. When he was done he stayed there, blissfully allowing the water to work out aches in his shoulders, the steam relaxing him again.

I’m sorry, Vanessa, his thoughts turned to the obituary that Derak so kindly left for him. Right. Kindness. Yeah, that’s what it is. I’m sure.

It wasn’t, though, he knew. Derak was gloating.

Isolating him. Cutting him off so that he had no one else left. He hoped no one else had paid the price for Derak’s obsession.

He blinked wearily and finally gave into the tears he refused to let Derak see, unashamed that he was a grown man, crying like a baby. If it hadn’t sounded cartoon-ish he would have cried ‘I want my mommy’ – because he did, very much. His mom, his dad, Frank, Mandy. His family.

I want my family, he thought miserably.

The shower finished finally, when he decided he needed to get out or turn into a prune. Maybe he could take another one later, if Derak left him alone long enough. He found towels under the sink and wrapped one around his waist and put another over his head, then went to dig into the generous wardrobe.

He found pajamas, satiny ones, different colors and styles but nothing other than pajamas. He sighed but pulled out a set at random and went back into the bathroom, drying his hair and himself before putting the pajamas on and grabbing the single pair of slippers he’d found in the vanity.

At least I’m dressed, he thought. I never want to wear satin again as long as I live, though. I feel like a girl.

He looked around his new dungeon and wondered what had caused them to leave the old one. That one had been hellacious, of course – and the bathroom had been much less fun than this one, but it had been awfully secure. Had someone been close to finding him there? He didn’t know the answer to that.

The cellar – he was pretty sure it was a basement of some kind – was larger than the other room had been, and older and in worse shape. He could see evidence of cracks in the cement room and floor, as well as visible pipes running all over the place. It was large enough to be a multi-family dwelling sort of basement – or else the basement of a very large house of some type, but Derak was right.

There was no visible way in or out.

Joe decided to check out every single inch of the basement’s walls, top to bottom, to see if he could find the hidden catch that let Derak in and out. There were so many floor to ceiling cracks that it could be any of those. He found an old folding chair to stand on to check the higher-up places; he didn’t think Derak would be standing on a chair but he figured if he was going to do this right then he was going to not let a single millimeter go unchecked.

Unfortunately, life decided to have another go at Joe Hardy. Just as he was about to step down from the chair it chose that moment to fold under him…

…He fell to the floor, unable to catch himself on anything and cracked his head solidly on the cement floor below him.

The world went black.

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Disclaimer

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The authors have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.