Chapter 3 - Ty

When I woke up I had no clue where I was. I did know however, that I was lying face down on a concrete floor. Not that I could see it, but I felt it. Immediately after that, the chill of cold air against my skin made me realize I wasn’t wearing my leather jacket anymore, and my gloves were gone too.

I still couldn’t see anything even after I was sure that my eyes were open, and attributed it to the sack still being over my head. As I started to push myself up I felt the distinct agony of someone kicking me in the ribs. Pain shot through my rib cage as I felt the rod through my right side shift. I bit my lip until I was sure I wouldn’t scream and then swore under my breath for a while.

When I finally quit swearing and had ridded the taste of blood from my mouth, I lightly touched my side to see how bad it was. They were out of place all right, and it was pretty damn bad. That meant whoever kicked me was wearing steel toed boots or some seriously aggressive combat ones. I tried to look around to see who had kicked me but all I saw was dark.

Once again I tried to push myself up. I managed to push myself to my knees before I felt something hard and heavy connect with my shoulder. Searing pain spread through the left side of my back and my left arm went numb. I collapsed back onto the cold floor.

I didn’t try to get up again and my attacker left me alone. After a while the pain started to drag me under and I welcomed the unfeeling bliss.

 

I woke to a loud crash that sounded like metal on metal. I looked around but that damn sack was still over my head. I may not have been able to see, but I knew wasn’t alone. I could sense the presence of at least one other person, if not two. I also knew that moving would probably get me beaten again, and I wasn’t about to volunteer as a piñata.

For a while I just laid there, my right arm protecting the ribs that had been shifted with my hand draped lightly across my stomach and my left arm angled out from my side with curled fingers. I thought about trying to get the sack off my head but knew that it would be useless. It would draw far too much attention to myself and if I did manage to get it off chances were slim that it would in any way go well for me.

Just as I was thinking of all the horrible things they might end up doing to me, I heard footsteps. They were light and barely audible even in the silence. Then I heard another sound, one that made my stomach churn and my muscles tense: the clinking sound of chain hitting the concrete and the scrapping rustle of it being dragged. I was so focussed on the sound of the chain that I didn’t notice a second set of footsteps approach me, until a hand latched onto a fistful of my hair through the sack and yanked upward. I tried to ease the pain by bracing myself on my elbow, but my head was jerked harder for it so I allowed my strength to falter and submitted to the pain.

A few seconds later the cord loosened from around my neck and I felt the hand release my hair, removing the sack from my head as it went. I tried to soften the impact of my head hitting the concrete but did a poor job of it; considering that it sent me into tunnel vision. Due to the pain I expected to receive and was already in, I didn’t fight the wave of numbness that caused the world to fade out.

 

I woke up again and was alone, confirmed this time by sight as well as hearing. For the first time I actually had a chance to take in my surroundings. It was about what I had expected, a large enough room that I couldn’t see all the walls - shadow swallowed an entire wall and part of the two that joined to it, high ceiling with hooks welded onto the crossbeams, one working light bulb pretty much directly above my head…

Probably an old warehouse converted to a gang’s torture chamber. Yep, this is definitely paradise...

I was still lying on the ground, which surprised me slightly. Considering the chain and hooks, I had expected to be dangling from the ceiling. Not that I objected, but it sent my suspicion levels way up.

As I went to sit up though, it became very clear. They hadn’t brought the chain to bind or hang me, at least not that time anyway. They’d brought it to whip me. And by my torn clothes and raggedly gashed arms it had either been notched and sharpened or had something with a serrated edge attached to it.

I didn’t make it very far in my attempt to sit up before a large black boot connected with my chest at high speed. I managed to avoid a concussion that time, but didn’t manage much else. I lay on the concrete fighting to catch my breath when the same boot came down to rest heavily on my chest, just above my solar plexus.

“Scotty. I shoulda known,” I coughed as he dug the heel of his boot in. Once I got enough air back in my lungs to be considered breathing, I added, “You’ve just been dying to kick me when I’m down haven’t you?” I looked up. His bright red contacts hid the plain brown underneath, and the sharp angle of his nose made him look like even more of an arrogant prick. I noticed that his shoulder length chokecherry red hair was windblown and had white flecks of snow that were still slowly melting.

            So it’s snowing outside. He must have just got here...  

“Right you are, Tyler, so right you are.” A cold smirk came across his face as he saw me twitch at my name, before continuing coldly, “I take it that means we’re having fun already?”

            “Oh yeah, tons of fun,” I said in the most sarcastically cheerful voice I could muster.

            “Good. We love to keep our guests entertained.”

            “I bet you do. So what’s this bullshit about anyway?”

            The heel of his boot dug harder into my solar plexus, which caused a significant amount of pain. “Don’t worry about it buddy, we’ll have plenty of time for that later,” his voice was wickedly cheerful and full of false friendliness as he pulled back his foot and stood beside me.

            “F**k Scotty, that was a low blow don’t ya think?” I said snidely, just barely breathing.

            “Oh Ty,” he regarded me with a superior sneer and an eerily calm voice, “I haven’t even started yet.”

            “Great, looking forward to the meat and potatoes.”

            “I’m sure you are.” He scoffed and shook his head. “No need to pull the tough guy act Ty,” he paused and a wide grin spread across his face, “Although, it will make it so much more satisfying when you finally break down and give me what I want.”

            “Whoa Scotty, I don’t know what you’re expecting but I got a girlfriend, and I’m really not into you-”

            His boot connected with the side of my head hard enough that if I hadn’t seen it coming and rolled it probably would have snapped my neck. I couldn’t help but grin though as I came 360 to rest on my back again.

            “Come on buddy, we’re just having fun, right?”

            “You really are a belligerent a*****e, Ty. You know that?”

            “Ah, ah, don’t use words you don’t know the meaning of. Hate for your hostage to get the idea you suffer from incompetence. Oh, wait, never mind.” I laughed, even though it hurt like hell. “I worked with you, I already know you’re an idiot.”

            I expected to get another kick to the head but was surprised instead with a fistful of my shirt being taken as Scott yanked up. It took me a second to realize that he was actually trying to lift me but couldn’t.

            I burst out laughing again, hardly feeling the seer of pain, “You can’t even try to pretend you’re tough now. Ha, oh I’m embarrassed for you man. You should go to the gym or something and just stay there for a couple weeks.” Granted, I did weigh about 210, and it was all muscle. I’d seen Scott lift some heavier s**t at the shop, but he didn’t have the core strength to do a dead man lift on me.

I knew I was making him livid. And I knew the more I pushed him the closer I came to dying; regardless of whatever information they wanted from me. I needed him to reveal something though, anything about what their plans for me were, or where the f**k I was. The more riled up I got him the more likely he was to slip up with something. Even something small that he wouldn’t realize was a hint.

“And hey, you’ve probably already got my wallet, so I’ll even lend you my membership during my stay at S**t-hole de la Dragons.”

“You ARE going to regret that.” He spat in my face.

“Easy, ‘Say it, don’t spray it’ now. Really Scott, are you qualified to be a host?”

“Shut up, Tyler!” He screamed, releasing my shirt.

The shiver went down my spine and I wanted to kill Scott for seeing it. His anger simmered and the wicked smile once again settled on his face. “Awe. I’m sorry buddy, do you not like your full name? Do you have some unresolved issues with you dear old dad about that?”

I glared up at him, “You f**k,” I spat, “I’ll f****n’ kill you for that.”

“HA! You’ll kill me? Ty, from where I’m standing, the only one that’s going to be doing any dying, is you. Now, come on, Ty. We’re friends right? You can tell me anything. Especially anything about all your friends that I’d love to become acquainted with.”

“Are you really that f****n’ stupid? I wouldn’t tell you s**t; not from the colour of nail polish my girlfriend uses to where Jim parks his car.”

“That’s fine. It’s not either of them we want.” He grinned, running a finger along the edge of a combat/bowie knife that I had barely seen him draw. “Brayden wants Julius. And you,” he crouched down beside me and pointed the tip of the blade to rest just below my Adams apple, “are going to give him to us.”

I met his gleefully evil stare with a deadpan one of my own. “Am I?” I asked, ignoring the small prick of the blade when it pierced my skin.

He glanced down at the blade, the smirk returning to his lips. “You know Ty, I’m surprised you don’t mind me playing with your toys.”

I looked at the knife, the blade was solid silver with inscription and the handle was worn wood. I squinted closer, “TLJ” was scribed on to the blade just above the handle. It was a Browning Shadow wood hunting knife; and it was mine. I kept it under the seat on the inside frame rail of my bike.

I gave a grim half smile, half sneer, “Where’s my bike fuckhead?”

“Oh don’t worry. It’s right where it belongs; in my garage. I’ve been wanting to take that Fireblade off your hands for a while now. Of course, it’ll need a new paint job, as plain old black and white just won’t cut it for me.” He stood up, still fondling my blade. “And I put a rather large scratch in the side of the gas tank.”

“You-” I bit down hard on my lower lip and turned away. I knew he was trying to rattle me; make me react the same way I’d made him react. I focused on the far wall, trying to see through the shadows to ignore him. It was probably about 40 feet long and appeared to be just sheet metal.

Definitely a warehouse. So where the f**k am I?

“You see Tyler,” he swung the blade to point at me, before swinging it back and tapping it against his neck, “You’re in my world now. And my world doesn’t f****n’ like you. So either you’re gonna shut your mouth with the snark and just answer the questions I ask; or you’re gonna keep running that filthy mouth until I slay you on this floor. So what’s it gonna be Ty? Because either way, I’d like to get to work.”

I just watched him, every muscle tense with anger and every vein coursing with hate-fueled adrenaline. There was no point in giving him a response. We both knew what was coming regardless of what I might’ve said.

He considered me for a minute, the sharp edge of my knife resting casually just a few millimeters from his jugular.

God, what I wouldn’t give for telekinesis right now. Come on Scotty, just a little more pressure to the left you f****r.

“You have nothing. You think if you don’t co-operate I’ll let you go or some stupid s**t? Well, let me paint a picture in your head of what’s going to happen if you’re feeling too macho to betray your leader-to-be:

“You have a day before I go after your girlfriend and rape her right in front of you before killing her close enough for you to be in the splash zone.

“You have two days before I haul in David Keith, with his little girlfriend and let you both watch her get raped before you get to see them both slain.

“You have three days before I go after your brother and let you watch him bleed to death on this old warehouse floor.

“And Tyler, buddy, by four days if you still haven’t felt like talking, I’ll drag your sister in, kicking and screaming, and you can watch her raped and murdered too. And for good measure after I’ve killed them all, I’ll hang you in the trees outside and kick what the ravens and coyotes leave of your corpses to the bottom of the river bed! So what do you have to say now Tyler?”

I shook my head, “Helluva bluff Scotty, but you’re full of s**t.” There was no way. Maybe, maybe, they could get Rebecca, and if they tried, there was a possibility they could get AJ. But Dean? It would take as much effort to get him as it would Julius, and I couldn’t see them doing it twice. Stealth or strong-arm would be the only possible way, and even then good luck. As far as Karen went, they wouldn’t even know where to start looking. Even keeping track of me, they wouldn’t have the slightest clue.

He nodded, letting his arm fall from his neck - unfortunately without slicing it open in the process - and ran his left hand along the blade again. “You could be right. Maybe we did take you because you were the only target we could get to, and maybe we can’t get to Keith. And it could be possible that you’re even right about your sister. But, you really wouldn’t know about that would you? You haven’t seen her in what; four, five years? So yes Ty, I could be bluffing.” He knelt down right next to me and leaned over to my ear, “But do you really want to take the risk? After all, you even admitted we could pluck Rebecca or AJ off the street. I mean, really Tyler, all you’d have to do is give me a little information and all that bloodshed can be completely avoided.”

I grit my teeth at the involuntary spewing of my thoughts. It was a habit I was well known for around the gang. So much so that whenever someone accidentally blurted something out others referred to it as ‘Ty Syndrome’.

I rolled my eyes to look at Scott. He leaned back at having my attention, the murderous gleam in his eyes again, “Although of course that will be made up for by the amount of blood you spill when you help us infiltrate the Saints and cut them down one by one. But that’s just semantics. You don’t need to worry about that for now. You just remember that you’re alone here, your own a*s is the only thing you should be worried about right now.”

“You are so wrong. I’ve got family, and they’ll come for my a*s. You do what you want to me, but I will not betray them. You’re gonna have to come up with a better game plan than that to try and take us down.”

“Ha! Well they’ll have one helluva time finding you, this place isn’t exactly prime property.” He grinned, twirling my knife. “On the other hand, if Julius shows up, then it’ll be just what we’re after.” He let out a jagged bite of laughter, “You just sit pretty and wait for them, okay?” He smacked me lightly on the check, still grinning with the menace of a rabid dog, “You let me know how that works out for you.”

He stood up and started to stalk off towards the corner that was obscured by shadow, “In the meantime I’m gonna go track down your girlfriend. Rebecca, that’s her name right? I’ll be sure to give her your regards.”

“Listen, you m**********r- ah!” I’d started to sit up, but I only made it about half way when my knife came sailing into my left arm. It left a good gash in my bicep and sliced across into my triceps but didn’t stick. It clattered to the floor as a clasped my right hand over the wound and let myself fall to rest on my back again.

“Maybe next time, you should listen. You arrogant f**k. Did you really think I would let you get away with that?” He was beside me again. I didn’t hear him pick up the knife but I felt it as he slid the edge along my arm into the crook of my elbow and drew blood.

“You thought you could talk to me with disrespect like you do at the shop while you’re in my territory and still get away with it? Oh, Ty, you’re stupider than you look!” He yanked the blade back and used the handle to jab me in the ribs. Once, twice… six times before he fisted a handful of my hair and held the blade against my throat. “You are so lucky that Brayden wants you alive. Because the second he doesn’t I will gut you six ways from Sunday and I will enjoy every minute of it. You’re a dead man Ty. I just haven’t killed you yet.”

I closed my eyes, I was in way farther over my head than I’d hoped. And since I didn’t have a way out, I’d have to go along for the ride until I found one. “Scotty, why-“

“No,” he hissed, shoving the blade higher into my neck. I felt it slice the scar that ran along my jaw and draw blood all the way across my throat. “You don’t say another f****n’ word. I’m done with you. You’re gonna shut up, and I’m gonna go home.”

“Come on Scott,” I whispered, “Don’t you want… to take me with you?”

I felt the blade slice a little deeper into my neck briefly as he whipped his hand back. Initially I thought he might actually kill me, regardless of what his leader wanted, but as I saw his fist instead of the blade flash towards my face I figured my life wasn’t in immediate danger. Alright, my life was in hugely immediate danger; but with that as a constant I had to prioritize.

I concentrated on keeping myself conscious as he connected with my jaw. I needed to think, and even though being used as a punching bag wasn’t my first choice situation, I couldn’t think at all if I was unconscious. He’d mentioned a river valley; was I out in Wapiti? If I was it was no wonder he’d been so smug, no one would find me.

F**k. I am so fucked, I thought as the blade sliced in near my temple with another punch. Scott wasn’t letting up any time soon and I was feeling the pull of unconsciousness.

How the f**k am I gonna get out of this one?

Author's Note

Okay, I tried to work in more details and give a better picture of what's actually going on. I did some more editing, what do you all think so far?

Reviews

[Cyndy Robinson]

I did understand the rod through my right side enough to know it was a prior injury, And I did feel like the previous references of the ER room were enough to tie that in. I did not notice the typos listed below, because I was drawn into the story, which is a good thing. I like your character Ty. I could see Bruce Willis playing his part. Same smart alec personality. (And one of my favorite actors). In real life I work with gang bangers. And there is enough reality here to get into the story. A wonderful chapter!

[747]

Okay, that's good to know. You probably did not notice many of the typo's previously mentioned because I went through and fixed most of them the other day, but I am excited to hear that you were so involved with the story!
Haha, yes, that would work very well. Ty is generally pretty blunt, and often speaks before his brain registers the thought.
Wow, that's very interesting. What is your line of work? I am glad to have your stamp of approval for believability with that being the case.
I am glad to see you enjoyed another chapter! Thank you greatly Cyndy.

[747]

Interesting. I can imagine how that would impact your psyche and therefore your life. You are correct, these stories and characters hold truth. Even though it's not your style, I'm glad that you were still interested enough to read. Thank you. For your words and your time.

[Lalochezia]

Your level of detail is ideal and I admire the way you are making Scott's despicability come alive. Another compliment for the witty repartees and thoughts ("volunteer as a pinata", "say it, don't spray it", "with that as a constant I had to prioritize")!!

Content-wise I have nothing to criticize, I only found a few errors:
- felt the rod through my right side shift → I don't understand this phrase but that might be due to my being German
- For a while I just LAY there
- the hand releaseD my hair
- only shadow where two should have been → two?
- there should be commas before "man" or "Ty" when someone is being addressed
- YOU'D hate for your hostage to get the idea → I had to read it several times to understand it
- You can’t even try to pretend YOU'RE tough now.
- S**t-hole dé la Dragons → is that supposed to be French? In that case, the accent needs to go
- FUCKHEAD → one word
- no wonder HE'D been so smug, no one would find me.

Otherwise amazing writing!

[747]

Thank you. When I changed the events in this chapter and moved things around I didn't go through it with a "red pen" so to speak. I'll be going through it and looking for those errors.

In answer to your first question, my reference there is to an event not described in this story. When Ty was younger he had surgery for badly broken/collapsed ribs. There are a few different methods of repair, using plates, bands, short rods, or splints. They attach via clamps or screws, are most commonly made of metal, and are often permanent.
With them in place though, future blunt force trauma can displace these remedies, creating additional pain and a more serious injury. That is what happens in this chapter.
So I hope that cleared it up and didn't confuse you further.

Also, I am very sorry I haven't reviewed "From longing to belonging" yet. I PROMISE that I will get to it within the next few days. I did not forget, I've just been overrun.

[Lalochezia]

Ah, thank you for the surgery enlightenment. I thought of one more thing: it should be "s**t hole DES dragons" (of the = de les = contracted to "des")

[747]

Yes, No problem.

I am aware that would be the proper contraction in French, but I actually used "de la" because of a movie reference. I didn't realize that I had accented the 'e' though.