Part 9

The prisoners were thrust into a dimly lit cellar room. The walls were concrete slabs, the floor, hard-packed dirt, the ceiling, rough beams. The four men who had pushed them through the barn above the cellar followed them into the room; Straker followed the men. As he entered, he closed and locked the door.

Pulling on the handcuffs still binding his arms behind his back, Peter looked around the room. It was not the same one he had escaped from less than 24 hours earlier, but it was similar enough to make him think that they might be in the same building. He muttered under his breath, "Definitely, that last escape was too easy."

"Yes," Straker agreed, "We told the Li family to let you escape just before we got here. If it's any comfort to you, I'm sure that those young men will be arrested for some other crime soon. The whole time they were holding you, they couldn't have come up with an original plan to save their lives. They'll do something else stupid soon, and your partners can arrest and convict them."

Straker seemed to be growing increasingly irritated as he continued. "I allowed you to escape to give you time to contact your family and friends. However, since that didn't happen, well…" his voice trailed off. "We'll just have to use a tried and true method."

Peter backed up as three of the men circled him, while Straker remained facing him, an unidentifiable smirk on his face. The fourth unnamed man pulled Kerry into a corner of the room. Peter slowly turned, trying to keep and eye on everyone. As he moved to face the grey-haired bruiser from the van, Peter took a defensive stance, balancing as well as he could. When a punch was thrown at his head he ducked and kicked out with one foot. As the man went down gasping, Peter heard a choked cry from the corner of the dank room.

"Oh, I forgot to mention," Straker said, watching Peter's face, "Every time you strike one of my men, I will have Green over there injure your little friend in some way. What was it that time Green?"

"Broken finger." Green answered.

"What are you doing?" Peter protested angrily. "You don't have any quarrel with the girl. If you're going to do something, do it to me. Leave her out of this!"

Straker smiled. "Innocents. They do make play more interesting, don't they? Don't worry, Detective, I intend to start on you next. The girl is just here to add a little more incentive for you."

He snapped his fingers. "Begin!" From around their waists, two of the men unwrapped chains. "This took a lot of thinking, Caine." Straker explained, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. "I had to come up with something that would be extremely painful, but not cause serious injury. After all, it might be some time before Kwai Chang…you don't mind if I call your father that, do you?…Kermit and Blaisdell find us."

Peter swallowed hard as he eyed the heavy lengths of chain, then quickly looked back to Straker.

"So I did some research. Regular beatings are just too unpredictable--we could injure a kidney or puncture a lung by mistake--not good for long term; and who knows how long you'll be my guest before your father finds us." Straker reached over to feel one of the chains. "But a chain--it will hurt, but quite evenly. There's less chance of severe injuries--external bleeding minimal--internal bleeding near the surface only. I've heard the bruising can be quite spectacular. And we can move on to other diversions later, if need be." Straker smiled at the look in Peter's eyes.

"Remember, Detective," he warned, "If you strike back, your little friend will pay. Just to make it more interesting, let's unlock those cuffs. Make the temptation to fight back greater."

Peter stood quite still as Straker took the cuffs off. It was difficult to restrain is impulse to strike out at the man, but one look at Green standing with a hand on Kerry's shoulder quashed the urge.

He backed away from the first of Straker's men as he began swinging the chain back and forth. The second man moved up opposite the first; Peter was caught between them. The grey-haired man from the van pushed himself up from the floor and snarled wolfishly as he pulled out a third chain.

With three men coming at him from all directions, he didn't have a chance. Peter caught the first chain with one arm; the chain wrapped itself around his forearm and jerked him off balance. He caught himself and jumped away from the second swing, then ducked under a third. A fourth swing caught him across the back; the thud knocked him to his knees. He was up in a second, but the next blow landed on his right shoulder, knocking him off balance again.

As Peter teetered, trying to regain his equilibrium, another blow knocked him to the ground again and he lost count of the swings. The three men surrounded him as he tried unsuccessfully to get to his feet. A particularly hard hit across his ribs almost made him kick up at the grey-haired mercenary standing over him in a tempting position, but he remembered Kerry in the corner with Green. Peter wrapped his arms around his head and curled his knees up into his stomach, trying to protect the more vulnerable areas of his body, and waited for Straker to tire of the entertainment. Each blow that landed left a throbbing line of agony. Peter retreated from the pain.

Kerry was steadily crying in the corner, no noise but tears streaming down her face. She refused to look away from the beating, somehow, it felt like watching was the only way she could offer her support to the man now down on the floor. As he stopped moving, something in her cried out, and she found her voice. "Stop it! You're going to kill him!" she screamed.

Straker shook himself like someone coming out of a trance and turned his cold gaze on her. From her, he looked to the man on the floor, now limp. "Stop."

Obediently, the thugs stopped, one in mid-swing. Straker edged past them and turned Peter over with the toe of his boot. Bonelessly, Peter flopped over onto his back, eyes closed. "That will be enough, for now," Straker decided. "We'll let that message get to Caine. He should be pounding at our gate in the next few days." He bent down to whisper into Peter's ear; "Tomorrow, I have another interesting lesson planned."

He pointed at the door, and the men left. Straker's attention returned to Kerry. "Don't presume to tell me what to do again, girl," he said in an icy voice, "Or next time you'll also be part of the floor show." He slammed the door behind him as he left. Kerry heard the key turn in the lock.

Kerry ran across the room and fell to her knees beside Peter's battered body. Her hands fluttered over his chest, unsure of what to do, where to touch. Sniffing back tears, she laid her undamaged hand on his relatively unbruised cheek. "Peter?" she cried, "I don't understand what's going on. Please don't leave me here alone. I need you." Gingerly lifting his shoulders, she huddled against the wall embracing him, waiting for him to come back to her.

Part 10

From a long way away, Peter could hear Kerry's plea, but he could not force his body to respond. In the small portion of his brain that was thinking, not just reacting to the pain that wrapped itself around him, pushing at his body, gnawing at nerve endings, he thought about contacting his father.

He wanted to resist, but his concentration scattered every time a different muscle spasmed, causing the pain to wash over him again and again. Straker was wrong—even if he would put his father in danger by calling to him, there was no way he could possibly reach him in this state. He felt himself falling into darkness.

*****

*Father, where are you?* Peter called. He was alone; surrounded by high black walls. This was not the Temple, where was he? Where was his father? Why did he always end up alone? Tears filled his eyes.

*I am here, Peter,* his father answered from a distance. *Tell me where you are. Let me help you.*

*You think I can't help myself?* Peter asked, sudden anger flowing over him in a river of pain. He felt his father hesitate, then he was there, beside Peter, holding him tightly.

*You can,* the older Caine said softly, *But you need not. I am here, my son. Please let me help you.*

*I'm sorry Father. We're not in the temple anymore, are we?* Peter asked, confused.

*No, Peter. You have been…hurt. By Straker?*

Peter cried out as the memory of what had passed came back to him. *Father!* he gasped. He felt his father gather him in, then a golden rush of light swept over him, taking away both the anger and the pain.

Through the confusion, Peter knew his father had sent him strength from his own chi. He reached out. *Thank you, Father, for being here when I needed you.*

Warm hands held his face. *I am always with you in spirit. Soon I will be with you in body.* The contact was gently severed.

*****

With a groan, Peter finally opened his eyes. He looked up into Kerry's worried face.

"Peter," she said softly, pushing his tangled hair off his forehead. "I'm so glad you're awake, I was scared. How do you feel? I'm sorry, that's a stupid question…"

Peter's lips lifted into a grin. "Isn't this where we started?" he gasped. With a grunt, he got his hands on the floor and pushed himself into a sitting position beside her. He looked around the bare room, then down at his bloody wrists. "What, no cuffs?"

"I guess they forgot." Kerry's voice died away into nothing, and she looked away from Peter. "I'm sorry," she burst out. "I should have been more help, I should have done something."

Peter looked down at her bowed head and sighed. Why did people around him, even people he'd barely met, keep getting hurt because of him? "You did do something," he said quietly, patting Kerry on the shoulder. "You cared. That made me stronger."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Peter leaned against the wall with one shoulder, pushing against it, determined to stand. Kerry sprang up beside him and, tucking herself under one arm, helped him up. Back on his feet, Peter walked around the room several times, until he felt more in control of his body. Sweat shone on his face.

Kerry watched him carefully. "Should you be moving around?" she asked, concern filling her voice.

"It hurts the same, whether I'm sitting or moving. And on the whole, I think it would be better if I kept moving." Straker might be right about the chains, Peter thought, looking down at the flesh that was showing through rips in his borrowed shirt.

Although his whole body ached, and his skin felt like it was throbbing with heat, it didn't feel like any bones or organs had been damaged. Red welts lay in patterns over the bits he could see, but the bruised skin wasn't bloody. He was a little dizzy, but that would be the blood pooling in the bruises, since the chains hadn't touched his head. After the initial shock, the pain was subsiding to a manageable level. He was going to be interesting shades of purple, green and yellow though in the next few hours. He had the feeling that he should have been feeling much worse, but…Peter took a deep breath and released it slowly, trying to accept the pain and move beyond it. Kerry waited.

"How long was I out?" he finally asked, the sensations under control.

Instinctively, Kerry looked down at her left wrist. "That jerk Green took my watch," she said with a sudden blaze of anger. "But I think it's been a few hours."

Peter had followed her eyes down to her wrist, and he noticed a strip of cloth wrapped around her two middle fingers. Reaching out, he gently took her hand in his own. "Did he really break it?"

Kerry's breath hitched. "I think so," she said. "I couldn't find any kind of splint, so I pulled the bottom off my sweatshirt and wrapped it up. I figured that the other finger might help keep it straight. It doesn't hurt or anything though. Well, not much," she amended at Peter's look. "This doesn't matter compared to what they did to you." Tears threatened to spill at the memory.

Uncomfortable, they both looked away from each other.

"Who are these guys?" Kerry asked. "What do they want?"

Peter wiped his forehead. "Old enemies," he said grimly, "of both my families. It's a really long story." He shook his head. "I don't know what they want though, beyond getting three people I care about here. It could just be revenge, but knowing Straker, he must have some kind of purpose. I'm sorry I got you involved."

"It's not your fault," Kerry protested. He looked so guilty, she wanted to take him into her arms and reassure him that everything would be fine. She prayed that everything would be fine…

"Just before Straker…started, you know," Peter said awkwardly, "he said something about me not contacting my friends? What was that all about?"

Kerry nodded. "When we were coming here, he asked me who you called from my parent's house. I told him that you fell asleep as soon as we got there, so you didn't call anyone." At Peter's approving glance, she blushed. "Well, I figured the less he knew about the cavalry coming to the rescue, the better off we would be."

"You weren't in the back of the truck with me. Where were you?"

Kerry shuddered. "I was in the cab, stuffed in back of his seat. There's not a lot of room back there. That awful man, the whole time he was either laughing or gloating, or asking me questions about you. What's going to happen next?" she asked in a small voice, watching his face.

Peter looked down. His long lashes veiled any expression in his eyes. "It's going to get worse," he warned. "Straker won't stop. The more connection he sees between us, the more he'll use that against both of us." He froze as the door began to open.

Back to KFTLC Page