The Other Side of Me - 13. Chapter 13

Thanks to Jim for editing!

“Rudy, look at me.Look at me, okay?”

Jay was kneeling down in front of the bathtub, frowning as he tried to get Rudy Seaberg’s attention while she stared straight ahead, seemingly oblivious to the tears running down her face. But, she did meet his eyes, as frightened as she was. And, Jay couldn’t blame her for being frightened given the madman who’d taken over her home and had her unconscious mother tied up on the living room floor.

 

He hurt my dad,” Rudy whispered. “I think he dropped him in the lake after he made me get off the boat.”

Jay opened his mouth, ready to tell her that she shouldn’t worry. That he was sure her dad was fine... but he couldn’t. Couldn’t bring himself to say it to her, because he seriously had his doubts.

“We’re going to get out of here,” he said instead. “D’you think you can help me?”

Rudy seemed to consider the question, and the look on her face was so similar to Jay’s sisters that it almost broke his heart wanting to reassure her.

“What should I do?” Rudy asked.

“I need you to untie my hands,” Jay told her, standing up, even as he struggled with the rope that bound his hands behind his back so tightly that he was certain his fingers were turning blue.

“But I can’t,” Rudy pointed out, shifting her own bound hands.

“Then turn around,” Jay ordered.

Confused, but obedient, Rudy stood and turned around, getting a better grasp on the plan when Jay kneeled behind her and went to work on the binding around her little wrists with his teeth.

“He’s gonna be mad if he sees. You shouldn’t.”

The whisper came from Oliver, and it annoyed Jay just enough to make him stop and look over his shoulder at the third party in the room, who was sitting in the middle of the small bathroom floor, watching them, also tied up. Like Jay and Rudy, Oliver had managed to force the cloth gag from his mouth.

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Jay hissed. “He’s doing this to you, too. So get pissed off and make yourself useful already.”

Oliver frowned, but at least looked curious. “How?”

Jay let out a breath. “Listen at the door. Let us know if you hear anyone coming.”

Oliver looked between Jay and the door for a moment, looking uncertain before he finally scooted across the door and brought his ear to the exit’s surface to do what was asked of him. “I don’t hear anything, Jeremy,” he decided a moment later.

“Just tell me if you do,” Jay replied. He continued to study Oliver for several moments as the other boy went back to listening at the door. At the moment, Jay wasn’t sure what to think of him. Only moments earlier he’d been wondering the best way to knock Oliver out, worried that he’d call out to his father if they tried to escape. But, that could have been the way Oliver didn’t resist the older man’s embrace when he’d forced the two of them into the house. Or, because he hadn’t seemed as bothered as Jay had by Mrs. Seaberg, who was unconscious on the living room floor. In fact, Oliver hadn’t even objected when they’d been tied up and forced into the bathroom. So it didn’t seem unreasonable that Jay was suspicious of him. Or, at least it wasn’t unreasonable that Jay thought the kid was a complete nut. But for now, he decided that as long as he wasn’t going to start yelling out for his dad anytime soon, he’d leave him be. Because for some unfathomable reason, Frank Seaberg seemed to think that Oliver Martin was okay, and since Jay had a feeling that the current worst-case scenario would be Frank Seaberg ending up in the bathroom with them, there was no way he wanted to deal with Brian Martin and a pissed-off Frank, who would definitely be pissed if he did anything to hurt Oliver. Necessary or not.

“Jay?” Rudy whispered, drawing his attention.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think we can really get out?” she asked.

“It’ll be okay,” he insisted. “Your brother should be on his way here... He’ll see something’s wrong, and... We’ll be fine.”

She nodded, and Jay went back to his attempt at untying her bound hands with his teeth, wishing that he could believe his words as much as Rudy Seaberg seemed to.

........................................

“Breathe, Frank... Frank, breathe.”

Frank tried doing just that, although, it wasn’t entirely clear to him when he’d stopped in the first place. But more baffling to Frank than sudden respiratory problems was that David seemed so calm at a time like this. When he was supposed to be dead.

But, then, he wasn’t dead. Frank stared at David Martin again. It wasn’t anything different from what he’d been doing for the last few minutes, but at least now he was beginning to form clear thoughts. David wasn’t calm, he finally decided. He was exhausted, and stunned, and while it wasn’t entirely obvious, Frank could see signs of uncertainty in his expression, too. But that was all that he had time to see as he suddenly gasped when the heat of the lighter reached his thumb and dropped it, cursing himself as everything went dark again.

But, the dark seemed to be a good thing. At least, it was an encouraging thing as Frank finally got moving. “Are you alright?” he finally asked David, but the silence he received in return told him just what a stupid question that was. “I mean...let’s get the hell out of here, alright? Can you stand?” Frank reached for David in the dark, meaning to help him up. He hadn’t suspected that his hand as it came against David’s arm would be unwelcome, but the way Oliver’s twin lurched back suggested otherwise.

Frank was quick to pull his hand back, stunned. But, while he couldn’t see David, he seemed to understand. It was something about their last encounters. It had been in David’s posture, in his voice, and given what he’d been through, it should have been no surprise that David was reacting to him this way. So Frank said the one thing he thought David needed to hear as he reached for the other boy again.

“You can trust me, David... Come on. I’m just gonna help you up.”

“Okay,” David said quietly, a noticeable tension entering his voice. But, this time when Frank reached for him, he reached back to accept the assistance. But as Frank moved an arm around him, pulling David firmly against his side as they headed for the ladder, Frank noticed that Oliver’s twin seemed to be dragging his feet, and as the dim light from above struck his profile, he seemed to be looking up at their exit with a certain amount of trepidation.

“We’re leaving,” Frank said, as if that would answer everything. “David?”

“Who else is out there?” David suddenly demanded, nothing but suspicion in his voice.

“What?”

“What’s going on? Why are you here now?” David suddenly pulled away, catching himself when he tripped over his own feet. “You’re helping them.”

“What are you talking about?” Frank responded, beginning to feel nervous. But, despite his sudden impulse to back up, he advanced on David instead. “Look, the only person I’m helping right now is you. Are you coming with me, or am I going to send someone else back here to help you?”

Frank watched in awkward silence as David looked longingly at the ladder. It was as if he were afraid to reach for it, believing that the moment his fingers touched the cool metal someone would snatch it away from him like a cruel trick. Frank had never before met someone who had no trust in anything, and while he now believed that David Martin had every right to feel that way, he had no idea where to start trying to understand it. And it might have been cold, but the fact of the matter was that he didn’t have time for it. He needed to get David back to Jay and Oliver before the Martin parents returned. And that was assuming that Jay had waited for him.

“Okay, David,” Frank said decidedly, and then before the other boy could react, Frank reached for his hand and brought it to the ladder before stepping back to wait. “We cango now.”

David stared at his hand on the ladder, his harsh breathing growing steadier as his grip tightened, and when his gaze slowly shifted to Frank, something decisive in his expression changed. The frightened, alone boy became a determined one, and with Frank right behind him, he crawled out of the hole.

...........................................

David felt as if he couldn’t get enough air. Not just air, fresh air. He took it in deep gulps until his blood had rushed to his head. He felt like he was drowning, and as he tasted blood on his lips he wiped his fingers under his nose, pulling them back to discover it had started bleeding. He watched for countless seconds as a few of the light raindrops falling from the clouds washed it away, and Frank... David didn’t know what to think of Frank. But then, he never had. But what he did think about Frank at that exact moment, was that his neighbor from across the lake was currently his only ally. Personally, David would have picked someone a little taller for whatever waited ahead of him, but Frank would do. After all, the guy was giving him the shirt off his back just so he could clean up his nose. Never mind that a little blood running down his chin didn’t make much of a difference at this point.

“Here,” Frank said. “Try to slow down.”

David brought the shirt to his face, shaking his head blankly. He didn’t know how to respond. He didn’t know how to respond. Explain. He didn’t need to slow down. It was like he needed to catch up. Everything was spinning around him, moving quickly. He could feel it in his lungs, on his prickling skin. But inside everything was slow. He felt like he was processing one thought at a time, everything repeatedly until he got it, and even then, he didn’t get it. He felt like he was chasing something and wouldn’t be satisfied until he was right on top of it, but if he didn’t stop...

“David!”

Frank’s voice followed David Martin as he blacked out, and a few moments later as David sank slowly back into reality, Frank was next to him, holding him up--or rather, trying to get him to sit down.

“You can’t walk like this,” Frank stated. “You’ll have to stay here. I’ll come back with help...”

“No.” David wasn’t sure how he managed it, but he held himself upright and managed to appear sober for a whole second. “No,” he repeated. “I have to...”

He had to stop them. He didn’t know how long it had been since he’d last seen his mother, but he remembered clearly that she was planning something. To leave? Good riddance. But Oliver... the thought of his brother was rubbing David the wrong way. It was a new feeling directed towards his twin, but still, he wasn’t ready for Oliver to disappear, too.

“You have to what?”

David’s eyes suddenly cut in Frank’s direction. “You said somethin’ about my brother. We’ll go to him.”

Frank was quick to start shaking his head. “No, David, I left him back at your place with... a friend. Look, they could be there waiting for us, or they might have gotten out of there before your parents came home. They would have gone to my place, and either way... I don’t think you can make it that far. If you drop, there’s no way I can carry you so I think it’s better if you just hide for...”

David didn’t bother interrupting Frank’s explanations and demands. He wasn’t about to spend what energy he had arguing. By that time he was already too busy keeping his focus on putting one foot in front of the other. And he was learning that Frank was very good at keeping up. He also seemed to have the sense to not argue when he wasn’t going to win. And he seemed relentless when it came to keeping close, which quickly became uncomfortable for David. Frank Seaberg was like a shadow in his blind spot, and while David considered him an ally at the moment, he wasn’t sure he liked that Frank was so close, even when Seaberg once again saved him from tripping over his own feet.

“I really think you should...” Frank started, but checked himself when David yanked his arm away and kept moving.

“They’re gonna do something,” David mumbled through his heavy breathing. “Oliver has to get out of the house.”

“David...”

“He wouldn’t let me out,” David said as if he’d just realized it, his pace slowing. “Oliver knew where I was. Wouldn’t let me out.” David looked at Frank, catching something unreadable in the other boy’s eyes. “What, Frank?”

“It’s not Oliver’s fault. Your parents lied to me, and I believed them. Look, it’s complicated, David... But Oliver did try to tell me where you were. I’m the one who didn’t get it.”

David stopped altogether. “Didn’t get it?”

“I didn’t think you even...”

“Existed,” David whispered, when it became clear that Frank didn’t want to say it. Not after their last conversation.

“I’m sorry... but I didn’t realize it until I ran into Jay--Jeremy Flaskis--and... well, I put it together, okay? ... It wasn’t Oliver’s fault, David. I know I haven’t known him that long. I haven’t known either of you that long, but I know that this wasn’t his fault, and that when I walked away from him tonight to come looking for you... I wasn’t afraid of anything more than that when I saw him again, I’d have to tell him you were gone.”

David stared at Frank hard for a moment, not giving away anything that he might be thinking. He stared until his head started to spin and his eyes narrowed, and when he finally spoke, it was decisively, sternly. “Oliver left me in there,” he said, and then before Frank could respond, “Jeremy’s not a friend. You better hope he hasn’t touched my brother.”

Confused when it came to whether or not David was actually angry with Oliver, Frank frowned as he continued to follow the other boy through the woods, deciding that now wasn’t the time for talking, anyway. There seemed to be a lot to sort out, and there was no way he was going to get anywhere with it under current conditions. Besides, something about David’s demeanor was disconcerting to Frank, and his instincts warned him to use caution.

As for David, he was feeling particularly cautious himself as he decided that Frank Seaberg was trying to figure him out. He didn’t care for it. A sideways glance told him that Frank was holding back questions. Suspicions. And while David didn’t know what provoked him to do it, he shot Frank a look that invited him to say something.

“Why do you say Jeremy’s not a friend?” Frank asked, but the way he said it suggested that he knew more than he was willing to give away. “Oliver said... I mean, he was talking like he was afraid that you were going to give away some big secret or something. Did you know Jay was snooping around?”

David shrugged, and then winced before rotating his shoulder. “The guy’s not as subtle as he thinks he is.”

“So were you going to?”

“Going to what, Frank?”

“Tell him a secret... like the one you were going to tell me.”

David’s steps faltered, but he managed to catch himself before Frank had the chance to, and he kept walking as if it would change Frank’s mind about asking that question. It didn’t.

“David, what were you going to tell me that night? When you called... if I’d gotten there sooner, what would you have told me?”

“I don’t remember calling you. Maybe it was...”

“Don’t play games with me!” Frank snapped, surprising both himself and David with his tone, who finally stopped walking to look at Frank as if he were ready to ward off an attack. “You called me. You. You asked me for my help, and I get that I fucked it up then, but now’s different. Tell me what you would have said if I’d gotten to you. Please, David.”

David snorted, and then used Frank’s shirt to nab some more blood from his nose. “I don’t know,” he finally responded, managing an obnoxiously sarcastic tone. “Maybe I would’ve told you that my family’s completely fucked, and that you should stay away unless you wanna get hurt, since Oliver clearly couldn’t manage to stay away from you. Or maybe I would’ve told you to start talking about it to people who wouldn’t ignore the truth, get me and Oliver out... or that if you didn’t bad things would start to happen, like my mom going psycho and trying to kill me!”

“Or maybe you were going to tell me what happened to Odetta Grover.”

Frank’s interruption might have taken David off guard, but he did a good job of hiding it, his mind going blank as it fought for a response for only seconds before he shook his head. “What does that old bitch have to do with anything?” He had to be careful. Things had changed drastically in the last fifteen minutes, because before then, he’d been damn sure that he was dead. But now he was free, in more ways than one, he realized. If he could keep things together. He had to keep things together. He had to think. Think about anything, except for a recent confession he’d made to his mother, and one he had no intention of allowing her to repeat.

“According to Jeremy, a lot,” Frank replied, moving around David to better face him. David frowned. With the whole forest to escape into, Frank made him feel trapped. “Look, I might have been a little slow about some things, David, but I know that if you were just going to tell me your parents were hurting you, you would have done it when I asked you--you wouldn’t have told me to look deeper unless there was something bigger... maybe something you weren’t so sure you wanted to tell me. Oliver said that there were things no one could know, ‘cause you’d get in trouble...”

“And if that was true what makes you think I’d tell you any of it?” David snapped.

“I don’t know... maybe you needed to... Maybe, it was too much to keep carrying around with you. David, is there something you need to say, but you’re afraid you’ll be in trouble if you do?”

David looked over Frank from underneath downturned lashes, remaining silent until Frank appeared to be as uncomfortable as he was. “Can I trust you, Frank?”

It seemed like a funny question. To both of them.

“I could say yes,” Frank replied carefully. “But I don’t think it would matter. You would never let anyone decide who you could trust for you.”

David’s attempt to laugh was quickly smothered as he choked on his own coughing. “I think we should keep moving,” he finally said, but Frank didn’t move.

“Odetta Grover called Jay’s house the night she died,” Frank said. “Any idea what he heard?”

“Wouldn’t have a clue.”

“She was scared. Thought someone was trying to hurt her.”

David’s posture stiffened as he turned away from Frank again. “What d’you want from me?”

“I don’t know,” Frank admitted. “I guess I just... I want to know what I’m dealing with here. What your parents did to you--they’re not going to get away with it, David. After tonight, they’ll never hurt you or Oliver again. They’ll pay for it... but I think maybe, there something else your dad should be paying for. Did he kill Odetta Grover, David? Or are you too afraid to say anything about it because someone else did?”

If David wasn’t too busy going numb inside, he might have noticed how nervous Frank suddenly seemed, as if he’d just done the exact thing that he didn’t want to do. But David certainly didn’t notice. Couldn’t. He felt like the world was going blank in front of him, everything gone except the fact that he wasn’t going to let anyone lock him up again as he searched for clarity.

No. His parents would pay. It didn’t really matter what they paid for at this point, either, as far as David was concerned.

“My dad did it.” He’d said the words so calmly that it was as if it hadn’t really left his mouth, but the look on Frank’s face told him otherwise. Frank looked... relieved. “I didn’t see it happen... but she was dead when... when...”

“It’s okay, David,” Frank insisted, gently reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. David looked at that hand for several moments. Frank Seaberg. Now he remembered why he wanted Oliver to be friends with him in the first place. The guy was actually a friend. Nothing like David had ever known. He actually cared. He cared about Oliver, and he’d believe David. David was pretty sure Frank Seaberg would be a friend to anyone who he thought was being wronged... but his dad had known it, too. David had tried to do Frank a favor by telling Oliver to stay away from him, stay away from things that could get Frank hurt. That’s why David was rather certain that when the time came, Frank Seaberg would do him a favor, too.

“She was already dead when he made Oliver and me put her in the boat, make it look like an accident. Oliver doesn’t know. When things scare’im, he forgets. He won’t know if you ask him.”

“Butyou know. You’ve gotta tell, David... If your dad made you help him, no one’s going to blame you. Please just promise me... David?”

Frank found himself grabbing the other boy’s shoulders once again when David started to stagger, as if his legs had suddenly decided that he’d been on them too long, and Frank became increasingly worried as he tried to decide if David’s face was a shade paler than it had been a moment before.

“I want to keep going,” David said quietly, and this time instead of thinking it over, Frank gave a decisive nod and allowed David to lead the way through the forest.

....................................

Brenda Crook lifted the still-warm batch of muffins from the top of the stove and brought them to her nose, inhaling deeply. She loved the smell of muffins. Muffins or cake. Actually, she loved the smell of anything that came out of the oven. She often claimed that the only time she could ever drown out the stench of her husband’s cigars was when she was baking. Brenda Crook baked a lot.

Using a newly manicured nail, she stuck her finger into one of the warm muffins to dig out a plump blueberry, which she promptly popped into her mouth. Using that same fingernail, she picked her teeth, taking a few moments to contemplate the last time she’d eaten corn before her attention turned elsewhere.

She could hear her husband’s boots clanking away on the front porch before he even entered the house, and by the time he had one foot in she was standing in front of him with her arms crossed, her interrogation ready to commence.

“You stupid old drunkard!” she snapped at his red, weary face. “Where on earth have you been? Do you have any idea what I’ve been putting up with from the sheriff’s station? I warned you when you volunteered Howard! You’d have your duties! And do you remember what you told me? Easy as pie, Brenda, easy as pie! Well, you fat, lazy...”

Howard dismissed her with a wave of his hand as he hung his hat and ran a hand over what was left of his greasy hair. “Don’t bother with dinner, Brenda. Had it at the club. Where’s dessert?”

Mary gaped at him as he passed her by before she looked down at the oven mitt, conveniently hanging from her right hand, and she threw it at him. “There is no dessert! And you have to get up to the lake. Now, Howard, or I’ll call all your friends and tell them you’re neglecting your responsibilities again. D’you really want that getting around town?”

Howard huffed more than he sighed as he turned to face his...well, that woman. “What’re you going on about already?” he demanded. “Can’t you see I’m tired here?”

“Well be tired later. You’ve gotta get out to the lake.”

“You already said that woman! Now get on with the point!”

Brenda turned her head for a moment, making a point to look offended. But, when she decided that it would get her no sympathy--which it never did--she simply looked put out as she crossed her arms and returned her gaze to her husband. “Mary Martin called here sounding funny.”

“Funny?”

“Funny. I think that husband of hers has been beating on her and the kids. You know the man’s no good, Howard, everyone does.”

“Don’t you start making accusations, you know how I feel about you and your gossip; and if I find out you’ve called up anyone...”

“I’m not finished, Howard.”

“Oh, for the love of...”

“And just a little while ago,” Brenda continued, “I got a message forwarded from the emergency number from that Flaskis boy. He was going on about Odetta Grover...”

“Odetta Grover?”

“Claims he can prove she was murdered. I know he took her death rough, but obviously...”

“Did he say anything else, Brenda?”

“Something about the Martins being involved. Oh, and something about waiting for you with the Seabergs. And I’m pretty sure he said something about one of the Martin boys disappearing... or maybe he said that one of them was with him. The people out that way are so strange, you know. Except for Mr. Dron. A sweet man, that one. I asked him to check up on Mary since I couldn’t reach you, but when I tried to call her up about twenty minutes ago there was no answer. When you go see her, will you bring her some of my muffins?”

Howard clenched his teeth as he went back to the door and retrieved his hat. If he rolled his eyes, she’d see it, and then he’d never get out.

“Don’t wait up, Brenda,” he said as he left their house. “I think it’s gonna be a long night.”

“Hold on a minute, Howard, the muffins!”

..............................................

“Hurry up, Rudy,” Jay insisted, fidgeting against his bound hands as Rudy’s small ones attempted to free them.

“I’mtrying,” Rudy insisted. “The rope’s really tight.”

“You have to pull it through that loop. There.”

Jay glanced over his shoulder to find Oliver standing next to Rudy, and wasn’t sure if he was disturbed by this or not, but still, he gave Rudy a nod. “Try it.”

“It’s still too tight,” Rudy insisted, but never once stopped trying. “I don’t want him to hurt my mom, Jay.”

“Don’t think about that right now,” Jay insisted, and then looked back at Oliver again. “Are you sure no one’s coming?”

Oliver nodded.

“Will Frank be here soon?” Rudy asked. “What if he gets tricked, too? Then who’ll come?”

“Stop thinking about it, Rudy,” Jay said firmly, just as he felt the bindings around his wrists loosen enough to pull one hand free. Bringing his hands in front of him as he cracked his knuckles he turned to face his fellow hostages, focusing on Oliver. “I’d better be able to trust you,” he remarked, and then ordered, “Turn around, I’m gonna untie you.”

Oliver frowned uncertainly, but did as he was told, and found himself wishing that Jay’s knot-untying skills were better than Rudy’s. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to be the case, and it was unclear whether Jay or Oliver was more frustrated by it.

Rudy suddenly turned, her attention focused on the door, and Jay’s attention snapped to her as she moved towards it. “Rudy,” he hissed. “Get back here.”

“I just wanna see if we can get out,” she replied. “My mom’s out there...”

She stopped in front of the door, her little hand reaching for the knob before Jay abandoned Oliver and managed to pull it back just before her fingers reached it. She jumped, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Just be patient,” Jay told her. “We’ll find out in just...”

A muffled sound moving down the hallway caused Rudy’s fingernails to dig into Jay’s hand as he pulled her away from the door. “Get over here,” he whispered as they moved past Oliver.

“He’s coming back now,” Oliver said quietly before looking at Jay. “You’re gonna be in trouble, Jeremy.”

“Shut up, and get down, Oliver,” Jay retorted as he and Rudy reached the bathtub, where he led her to sit on the edge beside him. She was quick to follow his lead as he moved his freed hands behind his back. “Rudy,” he said quietly, “listen to me, alright? If he comes near us, I want you to get in the tub and stay down, got it?”

She nodded slowly, her eyes focused straight ahead. Jay wasn’t even sure if she’d understood anything he’d said, but there was no time to repeat the question as the obstruction holding them inside the bathroom was suddenly moved and the door swung open.

Brian Martin shouldn’t have looked so normal. A normal man. A husband, a father, a guy who liked to go hunting and fishing with his sons... it was all sick, Jay decided as he stared back at the man standing in the doorway, the man smiling at him before looking over the rest of his captives.

“Everyone comfortable?” he asked, before laughing to himself in a way that suggested he expected everyone else to do the same. He placed a hand on the door, as if to close it, and determined to keep that from happening, Jay spoke up.

“You should let us go now,” he said, surprised by how calm he sounded. “This isn’t something you’ll get away with... I know about your wife. Someone’s going to find out what you did to her and come looking for you.”

Brian’s eyes widened comically, his tone as innocent as could be. “A tragedy, isn’t it? It’s too bad no one will feel sorry for her; I mean, after they find out she killed her own son... poor David. His brother missed him so much--that’s why you did it, right Oliver? Your mother took your brother away from you, and that’s why you got angry. I’m sure they were arguing when she said something that made him snap. Must have strangled her without realizing it.”

On the floor, Oliver’s eyes widened as he looked up at his father, the image of his own fingers touching the bruises on his mother’s neck still fresh in his mind.

“I...” he started. “I don’t...”

“Of course you don’t remember,” Brian supplied for him. “You’re a retard. There’s a lot of things you don’t...”

“You didn’t kill her, Oliver,” Jay suddenly snapped, and then looked at Brian. “And no one will believe he did.” His eyes shifted to Brian’s left hand, the thick silver band on his finger. “His hands aren’t big enough... and he wasn’t wearing your wedding ring, was he? Are those scratches on your arm, Mr. Martin? I wonder if your wife has blood on her nails... or maybe Mrs. Seaberg does.”

Brian stared at Jay for a long moment and then smirked. “You think you’re smart, don’t you boy? Well, why don’t you see for yourself.”

Keeping his eyes suspiciously on Jay, Brian Martin slowly knelt and reached behind the door before dragging something forward that seemed heavy. Jessica Seaberg seemed to be nothing but dead weight in his hands. Her head was slumped forward, her shirt torn at the sleeve, and the left side of her face swollen with a fresh, ugly bruise as he pulled her into the room.

“Mom!” Rudy screeched, and before Jay could stop her, she was on her feet, her freed hands no longer concealed as she rushed towards her mother.

“Rudy, no!” Jay shouted, but it was too late as Brian Martin’s eyes widened on the little girl as he dropped her mother on the floor, his hand raising as if to strike, the danger unbeknownst to Rudy.

On the floor, as Jessica’s head landed uncomfortably on Oliver’s chest, Oliver found himself between his father and Frank’s little sister. And for once, he wasn’t confused. Don’t forget, Oliver. Don’t listen to them. Be like David, he told himself. David never cared if he got in trouble.Be like David.

As his father’s hand came down towards Rudy, Oliver lifted his feet as best as he could, his worn shoes making contact with his father’s knees and sending the old man tripping back against the wall. Startled, Rudy stopped a foot short of reaching her mother to duck on the floor, her thin arms flying defensively over her head, and all Oliver could see were Jeremy Flaskis’s shoes flying over his head as he attacked, his fists hitting Brian Martin sporadically and hard as the two of them fell outside the bathroom door.

Finding himself over Brian Martin’s mid-section, Jay found himself with only one goal, and that was to make the man beneath himstop. He blocked the older man’s hand coming towards his face with his forearm, and felt his own knuckles crack on Brian Martin’s teeth before he felt a sharp pain at the back of his skull as Brian managed to get a hand in his hair, and before Jay realized what was happening his feet were off the ground and Brian’s furious eyes had pinned his. Jay’s back hit the corner of the doorframe, the hand around his neck cut off the air from his lungs and while his arms flailed he was pushed back until his feet were colliding with Oliver’s face below the sink.

Rudy screamed, the sound high pitched and echoing off the walls in the small space as she watched Brian Martin slam Jay’s head against the bathroom mirror until there was the sound of glass breaking and Jay’s eyes rolled back, and then she was silenced as she found herself in the middle of a cluster of bodies on the floor as Jay unconsciously fell over herself, her mother, and Oliver, and her mind was too blank to realize Oliver was being dragged from the room before the light went out, the door slammed shut, and there was silence in the little room once again.

........................................................

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Frank’s outburst, combined with his efforts to pull his own hair out, was met with silence as David stared blankly at the front of his house. “Okay. We can deal with this...fuck. I can’t believe he just left. Maybe Jay’s going to send help. We should wait. No. No. It’s not safe here. David, can you keep moving? We have to get across the lake. I think they would’ve gone to my place. If we can get there...David?”

To turn around and find that David was no longer with him was unsettling at the very least, but rather than panic, Frank calmly turned his attention towards the open door of the Martin house. Climbing the front steps two at a time, he decided against knocking before entering.

“David?”

The house still smelled like smoke from Oliver’s botched cooking as Frank moved in slowly, his instincts causing him to shut the door as if he feared someone entering the house behind him. The lights were still on, the telephone off the hook, but something he hadn’t noticed before: the rug pulled back, the dark stain on the carpeting drawing his attention. Frowning to himself but passing this new development, Frank headed towards the hall as the sound of a muffled sneeze reached his ears.

“David, we really shouldn’t stay here,” he called, pausing briefly in front of Oliver’s bedroom, looking in to find it empty before he moved towards the next opened door, where he stopped, too shocked by the sight of David standing over his mother’s corpse to properly respond to it.

“She’s dead,” David unnecessarily announced, his voice coming out in a strange monotone. In the light, David himself looked like a corpse standing over his mother in his water-crusted clothing, with his skin so pale that the shadows beneath his eyes along with every bruise and scratch stood out with horrifying clarity.

As Frank looked away from Mary Martin and in David’s direction, he became disturbed enough by the sight of both of them to want to flee, but forced himself to go forward instead. He was almost careful to not get too close to the body, moving pointedly behind David instead. Frank lifted his hand, wanting to lend David some kind of support, but it only dropped back to his side as the other boy’s posture became undeniably unapproachable. “I’m sorry,” Frank whispered, and then felt completely tactless as he added, “David, we really need to get out of here.”

David was still for several long moments before he suddenly moved towards the nightstand alongside the bed, and Frank watched as he opened the top drawer.

“What are you doing?” Frank asked.

“She usually keeps them in here,” David replied as he shuffled through a pile of receipts and jewelry, and then came up with a small keychain holding two keys. He turned towards Frank, holding them out. “Should be a car behind the garage. It runs like crap... but it runs.”

Surprised by the unexpected blessing, Frank reached out and grasped the keys. “Come on, let’s go.”

But, instead of heading towards the door, David looked back at his mother. “I wanna minute with her,” he replied, that strange monotone returning to his voice as he blankly took in what was in front of him.

Frank frowned, looking down at Mary’s body, and then back at David. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to object to David’s wishes, but he knew he did, and that he had to fight it. Swallowing hard, he finally nodded, despite the fact that David wasn’t looking at him. “Meet me out front,” he said, and then went in search of their transportation.

David heard Frank’s footsteps fade away, and when he was met with silence he blinked, his eyes suddenly focused on his mother’s open eyes. He took a step towards the bed, shaking his head as he felt a small smirk grow across his face. “I want you to know something,” he whispered, talking down to his mother as if she were still there to hear him. “I’m sorry... I’m sorry he beat me to you.”

Sliding his hands into his damp pockets, David Martin moved slowly past his mother’s bed, pausing only briefly to pay his last respects as he looked back long enough to spit at her feet.

..........................................

Frank all but kicked the Volvo in front of him out of frustration as he looked towards the house. It had been ten minutes, and the vehicle kept stalling on him as he waited for David. But even in the midst of all the insanity of this night Frank felt the need to be patient. David’s mother was dead. Oliver’s mother was dead. Thinking of Oliver’s off-behavior, Frank felt a pang of guilt. If he’d known about Mary, maybe he would have approached Oliver a little more sympathetically. He likely wouldn’t have left Oliver with Jay, who wasn’t the most patient person in the world.

And there was a fucking body in the house. It seemed like a good enough reason as any not to go back in there. But then, David was in there, too. It was late, definitely past dinner. Brian Martin should have been due home soon. Maybe he was due home already. Frank didn’t want to find out what would happen if the man showed up, now that there was no doubt in his mind what Oliver’s father was capable of.

“David!” Frank called, raising his voice as the hair at the nape of his neck uncomfortably stood up and he headed towards the house again. “David, seriously, we have to...”

He stopped short when David’s figure appeared in the doorway, and for a moment, Frank felt guilty for his impatience when he saw David had taken the time to put on dry clothes. Warm clothes. Thick sweatpants and a sweater, and in his hands was a bottle of water and what looked like a bag of crackers. “When was the last time you ate?” Frank found himself asking as he went to meet him.

“Don’t know,” David replied, although his tone strictly forbade any pity coming his way. In fact, he sounded rather nonchalant, something that struck Frank as odd before he decided to ignore it.

“Alright... ready to get out of here? Oliver and Jay should be at my place by now,” Frank said optimistically. “Bet you we run into cops on the way there.”

“Have you met the cops around here, Frank?”

Frank frowned. “Right. Let’s just get out of here.”

Ten minutes later, and Frank was taking the dark roads slowly, uncomfortable in the unfamiliar vehicle as he continued to glance at David, who was looking rather uncomfortable himself. His head kept lolling, his throat seemingly knotting up every time he tried to take the smallest sip of water, and each time a shadow crossed their path he gave Frank the impression that he was ready to jump from the vehicle.

“Are you doing alright?” Frank asked. “We’re almost there.”

“Just worry about the road, Frank,” David said, his voice becoming a strained rasp.

Frank frowned, but as he looked forward again, David’s warning seemed to have some merit as he moved around another sharp corner, only to have headlights shining back at him. Startled, Frank hit the brakes, and David, who hadn’t bothered to buckle up, braced himself as the bald tires skidded ten feet over the dirt road before it came to a jerking halt.

Frank, with his knuckles white on the steering wheel stared through the glass, disoriented as the dust cleared in front of the headlights before he was able to put together what he was looking at. The pickup truck was halfway off the road, imbedded in the trees, and as he looked harder, Frank could make out a shadow slumped over in the front seat.

“Let’s keep going,” David said, and Frank looked at him like he’d lost his mind.

“There’s someone there, they might need help.”

“We need help.”

“Stay here then,” Frank stated as he opened his door, pausing to remove the keys from the ignition before he left the vehicle. He headed towards the truck, shielding his eyes from the headlights as he got closer. He didn’t see who was inside the truck until he’d pulled the front door open. Mr. Dron was the last one he expected to see, especially since the intimidating old man no longer looked so intimidating--unconscious and injured.

Mr. Dron suddenly groaned, causing Frank to step back in surprise, and only then did he notice the light up ahead in the road, a second vehicle that had been involved in the crash. It didn’t take him long to figure out who it belonged to.

“Oliver!” he shouted, Mr. Dron forgotten as he ran towards Jay’s mangled car. “Oliver!”

He reached the opened front door, looked inside, and wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed to find that Oliver and Jay were missing from it. Taking a deep breath, Frank moved back and saw David staggering in his direction. “They’re not here,” Frank called as he moved to meet him. “They must have walked the rest of the way. Come on, we’ve gotta get Mr. Dron.”

“Why?” David rasped.

“Because we’re not leaving him here,” Frank said firmly. “If you don’t wanna help, get back in the car.”

David frowned, but obviously decided that the task would go faster with both of them involved because he was on the opposite side of Mr. Dron when Frank led the disoriented older man from the truck to the back seat of the Volvo.

This time as they moved down the dark, winding roads, Frank drove even slower, windows down as they searched the trees for any sign of Oliver or Jay, and before Frank realized it, he was looking at the back of his own house.

.......................................

Frank opened the passenger door of the Volvo, and looked in at David, who looked ready to fall asleep against the front seat.

“Come on, David, let’s get you inside.”

David looked towards the side of the house, the light coming from the windows, and shook his head. “I’ll wait,” he said quietly, and when Frank didn’t seem satisfied, David gestured to Mr. Dron in the back seat. “With him.”

Frank opened his mouth to object to either of them remaining there, but let out a breath instead as he looked to where Mr. Dron was hunched over in the back seat. “I’ll be right back,” he promised, and then moved towards the house, pausing when his eyes shifted towards his mother’s car, or rather, what was behind it. The shadow on the lake wasn’t something he remembered seeing there before, especially since it looked a lot like the larger boats docked near the town. Frowning, he watched it for a few moments, feeling that something was off, but unable to decide what it was. A shadow. That’s what made it strange. No lights.

Frank looked back at his house, suspiciously this time as a strange feeling crept up his spine and he backed away from all light that came from the windows, suddenly not wanting to be caught in it. Instead of heading for the front door he made his way around the side of the house, briefly pausing to look through his sister’s bedroom window where the light was off. He could see the door was open to the hallway, and for a long moment he listened for his parents’ voices, his eyes darting across the shadows of the room, unsure of whether or not they were really moving.

He brought his face closer to the class, shading his eyes with a hand in hopes of seeing better, completely unprepared for the dark mass that suddenly appeared in front of his face. Startled, and feeling like something massive was coming though the window at him, Frank tripped backwards, gasping as his back made contact with the ground, the air rushing from his lungs.

Frank looked up, ready to bolt if necessary, and nearly kicked himself as his eyes focused on the dark cat sitting up in the window, looking down at him as if he was the one with the problem. Shaking his head he stood up, mindlessly dusting himself off as the blinding fear slowly faded away. And then came back with a vengeance as his eyes widened on a familiar yellow truck parked beneath the shadows no more than ten feet away from him.

Frank stared at Brian Martin’s vehicle for a hard moment, knowing that the man in question wasn’t in it, but still concerned that the engine would roar to life at any moment and run him down. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to think.Here. Brian Martin. If he was inside, perhaps he was fooling Frank’s mom. Maybe he hadn’t hurt her. But then, thinking of Mary Martin, Frank was less than convinced that his family was safe, and he found himself hoping that his mom and Rudy weren’t alone. Frank’s father seemed to be very good at abandoning them, but this time, this time, Frank thought, he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

Cautiously moving towards the yellow truck, Frank looked back around the house, deciding that it was clear, but that still didn’t stop him from picking up what used to be the handle of an old rake as he continued to circle his way back. He paused near the kitchen window next; the light was on, but nothing looked out of the ordinary inside. Deciding they were in the living room, he made his way back to the front of the house where once again, he froze.

A few feet from the house, beneath the porch light Frank watched the boy who he quickly believed to be David, but after further examination he realized the clothes were wrong, the posture. The back was to him, head ducked as the boy shifted nervously from foot to foot, making a strange sound that sounded like muffled words, or maybe humming.

“Oliver?” Frank whispered, taking a cautious step forward, examining the area for any sign of danger before he felt comfortable enough to continue. “Oliver,” he said again, lowering the stick in his hand as he quickened his pace, moving forward until he was reaching out, his hand sliding over a trembling shoulder. “Oliver,” he said firmly, forcing his friend to turn around. But, when Oliver’s hazel eyes met his, Frank reeled back in shock, taking in cuts and scrapes, but more noticeably, bound hands and a taped mouth.

Frank’s moment of clarity came quickly as he understood more than he cared to, and a little too late as he spun around, his eyes widening on Brian Martin’s angry face, and then the butt of a rifle he couldn’t stop from making harsh contact with his forehead. Falling, lost, defeated, Frank Seaberg hit the ground, his eyes focusing on the Volvo parked past the drive, the opened passenger door, and while he didn’t mark it with any significance at the time, his last thought before the world went black was that David Martin seemed to have disappeared once again.

.............................

There was a soft humming, insistent rocking beneath him. Perhaps it would have been a calming sensation if Frank’s head didn’t feel like it had been trampled by stampeding cows cows. He moved his fingers at his side, flattening his hand over the surface he seemed to be lying on. A cheap mattress, he decided. A cheap, hard mattress that did nothing to separate the springs from him.

Opening his eyes he found darkness, shadows. A small curtained window seemed to be somewhere above him, and there was the scent of old wood and dust, the muskiness of damp carpeting. Frank took in a deep breath, was careful to be still for a long moment. He was definitely moving, and there were limited ideas that came to mind when it came to moving bedrooms. But then, he didn’t have to think about it too long because his instincts told him that he was on the water. It felt like he was on the water. And there’d been the boat, which obviously no longer was in front of his house.

Ignoring the pain that spread from his forehead down the back of his neck, Frank tried to sit up, only to have his heart momentarily stop in his chest as a large hand come down over his shoulder. He opened his mouth to scream, his body no longer taking caution with his injuries as he struggled against the hand that came down sternly over his mouth and his fingers gripped a strong wrist, trying to pry it away.

“Shh!” he heard against his ear. “You’re okay. You’re okay, Frank.”

The voice he recognized, and the restraining arms around him suddenly became a source of comfort for Frank, one he remembered from his childhood. He wanted to feel safe there, with his father. He wanted to be calm, allow his worries to disappear knowing that a man who was supposed to be invincible would take care of everything. But as Frank sat there, in the dark, leaning back against his father’s chest and allowing his chest to heave in each breath in time with his safety net, he realized that at that moment, his father had never seemed more human.

“It’s not okay,” Frank stated, struggling away, feeling his way off the mattress and catching himself against the rocking floor beneath his feet. His hands moved to search the walls, finding a bolted-down picture frame, a lamp... a light switch. He flicked the four times, and nothing.

“Here,” he heard Sam say, “I already tried that, and then there was a soft light in the small cabin, his father sitting on a full sized mattress holding a lantern. He looked worn, but not hurt.

“What happened?” Frank asked.

“I’m not sure,” Sam replied, placing the lamp on a short floorstand. “Are you alright?”

“No.”

Sam’s eyes rolled upwards in a sign of impatience as he left the bed, catching himself against the rocking boat. “Have you seen your sister?” he asked.

“What?” Frank demanded.

“She was with me... we were renting the boat...”

“With Brian Martin?”

“Look, I just wanted to spend some time with you, okay?” Sam snapped. “I didn’t know the guy was a lunatic... I think I drank something. When I woke up, I was locked in, and Rudy was gone... he came back with you...”

“You lost her?” Frank all but screamed, anything else his father had to say lost on him as he became submerged in a panic, turning as his fists beat at the cabin door. “Rudy! Rudy!”

“Frank, stop!” Sam ordered, his hand wrapping around his son’s arm to yank him back. “I’m sure there are a million reasons why you should be mad at me, but none of it matters right now! You need to listen!”

Frank looked at his father, his eyes wide, his mouth open with nothing to say.

“Frank...”

“He’ll kill her,” Frank got out. “He killed his wife, I saw...”

“Frank!” Sam said again, shaking him. “Listen. You have to get away from here, the first chance you get... you can still swim?”

“Dad...”

“You have to get help. I want you away from here! Do you understand me?”

“No!” Frank snapped. “I’m not you. I won’t just leave...”

“Yes you will. Promise me... swear it, Frank, the first chance...”

Sam Seaberg interrupted himself as he suddenly yanked Frank behind him, just as the cabin door flew open and he came face to face with the man he very much would have liked to murder at the moment.

“What did you do with my daughter?” Sam demanded, trying not to feel intimidated by the rifle pointed at his mid-section.

“I see the two of you are catching up,” Brian remarked. “Nothing like a father-son reunion, right, Sammy? I hope Frank’s cutting you some slack. So sad when family can’t get along.”

Frank looked around the obstruction of his father’s body, past Brian Martin, and his eyes widened on Oliver, who was standing in the background, looking numb and shaken. “Oliver!” he shouted, attempting to move forward, only to have his father hold him back.

“Frank, no!”

Brian Martin suddenly laughed, drawing both Frank and Sam’s attention. “No need to keep the boys from their fun now, Sammy,” he remarked, just before his demeanor changed, his smile faded, and he lifted the rifle. “Get out here.”

Sam didn’t move, frowning when Frank wouldn’t get behind him. “What do you want?” he demanded.

“Don’t look so upset,” Brian replied. “We’re just gonna play a little game. Now let’s go. Out.”

Frank started to move first, his eyes once again trained on Oliver, but Sam wouldn’t allow him to move too quickly, waiting for Brian Martin to back out of the doorway before he allowed Frank to break free, and even then it was because Brian had grabbed the sleeve of his shirt to hold him back.

Frank stopped in front of Oliver as their eyes met, Oliver seemingly asking him something that he didn’t know how to answer. Frank wanted to ask him plenty, too, but first he looked back at their fathers, feeling threatened as his eyes dropped to Brian’s hand on his father’s shirt before he met Sam’s eyes.

“You boys play nice for a few minutes,” Brian stated, leading Sam away, but Frank hardly heard him when the look on his father’s face seemed to be louder than any voice. Sam’s eyes were ordering him to listen. Listen.

“Do it,” Sam stated, but there was no doubt that he wasn’t talking about what Brian had just ordered them to do.

Frank suddenly wanted to follow after his father up the short flight of stairs, where Brian was taking him. But, Oliver had other ideas for him as he suddenly latched onto Frank’s hands with both of his, pulling him around the narrow walkway, towards the bow.

“Oliver...” Frank started.

“Are you okay, Frank?” Oliver suddenly asked. “I’m sorry, Frank. I’m sorry.”

Frank sighed, glancing up to see that above them Brian still had the rifle on his father, who was now driving the boat. Brian looked in his and Oliver’s direction, smirking, and Frank found himself pulling Oliver back even further until they stood against the side of an inflated life raft covered by old blankets. “It’s not your fault, Oliver,” Frank stated, and then lowered his voice even more. “I found your brother.”

Oliver looked both hopeful and terrified by the notion.

“He’s okay,” Frank said. “I mean, I think... I don’t know where he went.” Frank stole another glance at Brian Martin to make sure he wasn’t listening too carefully, while Oliver’s gaze seemed to drift to Frank’s father.

“Frank? Why’s your dad looking at you like that, Frank?”

Frank looked at Sam and frowned. “Because he wants us to get off the boat.”

Oliver was quick to shake his head, obviously disturbed by the idea. “No, Frank. That’s a bad idea, Frank... he’ll find us... he’ll find us.”

“I don’t know,” Frank replied, looking over the lake. He could see land close enough, and a glance to his father told him that they’d be getting closer, only, he no longer knew what side of the lake they were on. “There’s a lot of places to disappear out here.”

“Frank...” Oliver groaned.

“Hey,” Brian suddenly said sharply. “What’re you two talking about down there?”

“Nothing,” Frank said quickly, looking hard at Oliver before he whispered. “Trust me.”

Oliver’s eyes widened. “Frank...”

“Hey, get up here!” Brian shouted. “Both of you!”

Frank heard a click. The gun.

“Oliver... go!” Frank suddenly lunched forward, shoving Oliver towards the side of the boat. “I’m right behind you!” he shouted, just as Brian shouted for them to stop. Oliver moved, climbing up the rails as the boat suddenly rocked, a shot fired, and looking over his shoulder, Frank was just in time to see his father tackle Brian Martin.

“Frank, hurry!” Sam called.

Frank turned back to Oliver, knowing that there was no turning back now. They had to get off the boat. There wouldn’t be another chance. “Jump!” he shouted, moving to step over the raft at his feet, and perhaps he would have if the blankets hadn’t suddenly moved, rising into the air until they were as tall as he was.

Startled, Frank reeled back as the force under the blankets shook free, and suddenly he found himself separated from Oliver by no one other than David, who was looking at him strangely just before he turned, grabbed the back of Oliver’s shirt and pulled him back.

Two brothers, nearly identical, nearly, Frank now realized, faced each other. One was in shock. One was smiling.

“Hi, Oliver,” David said. “Hope you’re not going anywhere just yet.”

And then Frank watched David Martin’s fist force its way against Oliver’s face.

A/N: Yeah, I know. There will be one more. Seriously this time. One.