Opening Moves
stands with his book, only looking like he was reading. In the afternoons, he didn’t have any classes; he came by and watched the baseball team practice. He didn’t even have courses on the South Campus; he just came here to watch them. But, of course, he was only watching one person on the team. He caught sight of the mop of shaggy, curly, sandy blond hair and stared again. Michael Heights had no idea CJ existed. He looked resplendent in the warm St. Louis sun, and CJ had to force himself to stop staring so openly. He heard giggles from down the stands farther.
“Michael! Hit one for me!” a girl yelled, and CJ sighed.
He knew it was too much to ask for Michael Heights to be gay. The chances the well-built blond was into other guys were slim, especially considering how much attention he paid the girls who followed him around. He supposed he was an excellent baseball player. He was the team’s ace pitcher, after all. CJ adjusted the bag at his feet and tried to read again. With Michael on the field, he couldn’t concentrate, however. Chaucer had no claim to his attention right then. He sighed again, put the book in his overfull bag, and watched for a while. It wasn’t like he had to worry about being noticed. No one noticed him.
CJ was an unassuming five foot and seven inches, which wasn’t that short until he considered so many of the guys he knew on campus were close to six feet tall. He looked a lot like his Korean father, only shorter and thinner. He got it from his mother, he guessed because she was only five foot three. His eyes were golden brown, though they were obscured mostly behind the simple oval glasses he wore. He had long, black hair, which he kept pulled back in a tail most of the time. His mother had been after him to cut it, but he liked it that way. It made him look girly.
That was another reason he was different. He’d been exploring his gender lately, and he was finding he wasn’t exactly just male. He wanted to be feminine sometimes, but not like the drag queen feminine, though he wouldn’t mind dressing up like one sometimes. His hair was the only thing he’d changed, but he found himself drawn to the women’s section in the store and wanted desperately to try out some of the cute skirts and dresses they had. He didn’t feel like it all the time, just enough of the time. Vaguely, he wondered if his tendency to dream about being a woman had something to do with it. He shook the thought away. It didn’t matter; he was a guy and had to act like one.
Resting his chin on his fist, he watched wistfully as Michael approached batting practice. CJ did not know about baseball’s terms and rules; honestly, he didn’t care to learn more about the sport than he knew. He would have watched Michael walk across the hall if he could. It still surprised him that they were practicing during finals, but it looked like they had just gathered whoever was free to have some practice time before the end of the semester. Of course, Michael had been the one to gather them.
“All right, great practice, guys!” Michael yelled as he put down the bat, and everyone in the stands ran down to the fence as the players came off the field.
CJ watched Michael wave to the girls yelling at him, and his heart sank a little more. There wasn’t a shot in hell for him with a guy like Michael. But, of course, if he wanted to know for sure, he should approach him and find out. There was zero chance of it happening, however. There was no way he could walk up to the star pitcher of the Triton’s baseball team and ask if he was gay or not. He blushed just thinking about it. That was something he could never do in a million years.
After everyone had cleared out, he got up, slinging his heavy bag across his body, and walked back to his car. He fumbled with his pocket to get the keys out, almost knocking his phone to the asphalt.
“Oof, that was close,” he muttered, clutching the device against him. It was the only place he had pictures of Michael, which he’d sneaked during practices.
He brushed his hand over his sweaty forehead. How the hell was it so hot at the start of May? It was Missouri, that’s how. Stupid weather. Today was the hottest day so far this year. He’d seen in the weather that it was supposed to get up to ninety. And it wasn’t even June or July yet!
He pressed the unlock button and sighed. At least the parking lot was deserted because of finals, so no one saw him struggling to balance his bag, phone, and keys. South Campus wasn’t all that busy most of the time, anyway. Usually, only the optometry students spent much time there.
He opened the door, swung his bag into the car, and tossed it to the passenger seat. It landed with a thump. In doing so, though, he knocked his phone out of his other hand.
“Ssibal!“ he exclaimed as it hit the ground and skidded under the car.
He hoped it hadn’t broken. But he had a good case, so he thought it would survive that drop.
He leaned in and started the car up so the AC could run while he grabbed the phone. He got out and looked under to see it was just out of his reach, so he had to lie down and reach for it.
That was why he didn’t pay much attention when a van pulled up in the next spot. People came and went all the time, and he wasn’t thinking in the empty parking lot, there was little reason to pull up right beside another car. He glanced to the side and noted it, but that was all. When the door slid open behind him, he didn’t think anything of it then because there were a lot of non-traditional students there, so a mom bringing a kid with her wouldn’t be strange.
He grabbed the phone and stood up with it. There were no cracks when he turned it over. He let out a sigh of relief. His pictures of Michael were safe. He turned around and nearly ran into a large man standing right behind him.
“Can I help you?” he asked, looking him over. He was tall, easily over six feet five inches, heavily built, and with thick muscles. His heart skipped a beat. He towered over him.
He didn’t say anything for a moment, only stared at him, his nearly black eyes flat and lifeless. Then, finally, he spoke in a deep voice, “Yer Don Kim’s kid, aren’t you?”
CJ was a little startled but slowly nodded. The guy must have noted the resemblance between him and his dad. But what were the chances of running into someone randomly who knew his father?
“That’s good,” the taller man muttered, turning back toward his van.
CJ thought this was all strange, but just as he was about to get into his car, he felt a sharp pain in his arm. He looked in time to see this strange man pulling a needle out of him and blinked in surprise. This guy just stabbed him with a needle. What?
“Why did you do that?” he muttered as he tried to back away.
The man’s hand shot out and grabbed him by the bicep and yanked him close. CJ did not know what to do. It wasn’t like he was prepared for some guy to kidnap him. But wait, was that what was happening? Was he being kidnapped? He didn’t know how long he had before whatever he gave him took effect, but he yanked away from him, feeling the man’s nails cut grooves in his arm as he did so. He tried to take off and run, but just as he got both feet under him, a wave of dizziness hit him, sending him to the ground. As his phone hit the asphalt, he heard a clatter. He hoped that didn’t break it either, he thought, despite the situation. Somehow, his glasses stayed on his face.
The man walked over to him calmly and prodded him with his foot. “Just like yer dad,” he growled, grabbed him up under his arms, and dragged him back to the van’s open door. The world spun, and a second later, he realized he was on the floor in a cargo van, not a minivan. He reached out, but the door slammed shut. The world rocked a little, and the last vestiges of consciousness finally left him.
“Mara, has CJ come home yet?” Donald Kim yelled from the foyer as he entered the house.
Mara stuck her head out of the door to the kitchen. “No, was he staying late today?”
Don thought for a second. “He shouldn’t be because it’s finals week. Remember, he said he’d be home early to watch Alex and Allie while we went grocery shopping.”
Two pint-sized creatures came running past Mara and into their dad’s arms. “Hey there, kiddos,” he said as he hefted the twins up against him. They were almost four now and getting heavy for him, even as much as he worked out. Their birthday was coming up fast, June 6th. It would be quite the celebration with the party they had planned.
The doorbell interrupted their hugging, and Mara headed over to answer it. Don tickled his twins mercilessly, sending them both into giggling fits until they were out of breath. He sat back on the floor, out of breath, and wondered who was at the door keeping Mara so long.
He looked up as Mara returned to the kitchen, blanched paler than he thought possible. Her blonde hair made her look paler, and her freckles seemed drained. Behind her was a pair of city police officers. One was a darker-skinned man with striking features and close-cropped dark brown hair framing light brown eyes. The other was a shorter, tanned woman with long, strawberry-blonde hair pulled up in a bun on her head and piercing green eyes. Both looked very serious.
“Dear, what’s wrong?” he asked, standing slowly.
The twins had frozen, grabbing onto their father and staring at the strangers that had come into their house. Don felt his heart start beating harder in his chest. Why were the police at his house?
She swallowed hard. “They found CJ’s car at the school. His books and bag were thrown into it. His phone was on the ground next to it. The keys were in the ignition, and it was running with the air conditioner up.”
Don looked between the officers, Alex and Allie hanging on his legs as he did so. Had something happened to CJ? His mind was racing with possibilities. Why would he have left the car running? He couldn’t imagine a scenario where CJ would leave his car with it running. Well, he could imagine one, but it was not one with a favorable outcome, especially after the call he’d gotten the day before.
“I’m Officer Vernon Miller, and this is Officer Patty Brown. We were first on the scene at the school when the security officer called to report the situation. But, unfortunately, all we found that might be a clue is this,” the male officer said, handing Don a plastic bag, which was sealed.
“Oh,” Don said, seeing inside the evidence bag was a note addressed to him that read, “I’ve come back for you, old friend.”
“Do you know what this might be about?” Officer Brown asked, pulling out a notepad from her pocket.
“Daddy, play with me!” Alex whined, pulling on Don’s sleeve, apparently tiring of waiting for the officers to leave the room. Meanwhile, her sister was hiding behind Don’s leg.
“Sure, just a minute, honey,” he told the black-haired little girl. Mara reached down, picked her up, and pulled her twin to the side. Neither child enjoyed being separated from their dad right then.
“There is a man from my days in the army. He might hold a grudge against me enough to do something like this,” he said, handing the plastic evidence bag back to Officer Miller.
“What can you tell us?” Officer Brown asked, making notes as they talked.
Don contemplated what he could possibly reveal to them without permission. He mulled it over for a few minutes, feeling everyone’s eyes on him. He had to give them something. His son was missing, and he was in a lot of trouble right now.
“Well, that I can’t go into much because you’ll need to contact Agent Richard Pearson with the FBI. He was the one I worked with almost 30 years ago,” Don said, picking his words carefully. “He can handle coordinating things, I would think. All I can say, though, is you’re looking for a man, around six feet five inches in height, black hair, brown eyes, around two hundred fifty pounds when I last saw him.”
The officers nodded, making notes. “Is there anything else you can tell us now that might be helpful?” Officer Miller asked as Officer Brown made notes on the case.
“Just that the man who I think is at fault is a dangerous man and should not be approached at all until the FBI can do something,” he explained.
After a few more minutes of asking questions Don couldn’t answer, the two police officers left. Don stood silently for a few minutes. Then, he looked over at Mara who was standing there with the two kids clinging to her.
“I’m calling Randy,” he said, returning to the kitchen.
He picked up the house phone and dialed the number from memory, knowing Randy wouldn’t have changed it since the last time they’d contacted each other. So, he waited, and he answered within a few rings.
“Hello?” came Randy’s voice over the phone.
“Randy. He’s back.”
There was a long pause. “They called to say he broke out of prison.”
“He’s got my son,” Don told him and tried very hard not to fall into tears himself.
“He won’t kill him. Not him; he wants to get to you. If he kills him, it would be detrimental to his plan. So, he’ll keep him alive,” Randy assured him.
“But at what cost?” Don asked. “Alive, yes, but hurt? You know as well as I do; he knows how to torture someone and keep them alive.”
Another pause. “I’ll tell Terri. We’ll be over at your place tomorrow afternoon.”
“Keep an eye on your kids, Randy. Both of them. The twins aren’t leaving the house until this is over,” he said.
“I can try, but both are old enough to have some autonomy. I can only keep them so safe at their ages,” he exhaled.
“I know.” Don sighed to himself. “Try to be safe. I’ll talk to you both tomorrow.”
Don hung up the phone and looked at Mara, still holding Alex in her arms while Allie kept pulling at her sleeve. She had tears in her eyes.
“It really is him, isn’t it?” she whispered.
“I’m afraid so,” he answered, not wanting to look at her.
“And he has CJ.” Her voice was strained, and she held back tears.
“He won’t kill him. That won’t get him what he wants,” Don tried to assure her.
“What he wants? All that man wants is revenge for you and Randy putting him away! You don’t know what he plans to do to him!” she exclaimed, clutching Alex tightly against her.
“Look, I have to contact Pearson. He needs to know what’s going on,” he said, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket.
Mara nodded and let the tears fall from her eyes. “Mommy?” Allie asked from the floor. “Why are you crying, Mommy?”
“Nothing you need to worry about, baby,” she said, wiping her eyes with her free hand as she sat Alex back down on the floor.
Don found the contact and made the call. “Connect me to Agent Rich Pearson,” he told the receptionist that answered the call.
A few moments passed tensely with the only sound of Mara’s quiet sniffles. “Agent Pearson here,” came the response.
“Rich, I hate to bother you, but we have a situation,” Don began.
It was as though swimming through the mud to wake up again. Whatever he’d given him was effective, and he couldn’t shake the lethargic feeling that came with it. His eyes fluttered, and he opened them to see absolutely nothing. It was pitch black wherever he was. He pulled on his arms and found them tied to what felt like chair arms. He yanked a little harder and felt the ropes bite into his skin.
“Hello?” he yelled. “Is anyone there?”
Only silence answered him. He licked his lips and tried to see anything, but there was just no light in this place at all. Was he underground or something? His heart pounded in his chest even harder. What was going on? Some guy kidnapped him; he knew that had happened. This wasn’t some movie where things like this happened; this was real life. Did people really get kidnapped in real life like that? They did because it just happened to him.
The sound of an opening door got his attention and he turned toward it. In the open doorway, he saw the silhouette of the man who had taken him. In the dim light, he could tell it was a basement.
“H-hey! What’s going on?” he stammered out, trying to quell his fear. “Who are you? Why have you kidnapped me?” He wanted to sound bold and sure of himself, instead it came out as barely audible in the quiet room.
The man came down the stairs slowly, and CJ’s breath quickened. Fear was something that he was familiar with in his dreams, but in real life he’d never imagined feeling this way. He couldn’t say anything else, and his mind wandered to what this guy had planned. What did this guy want? Why would he do something like this? Was he going to murder him?
“CJ Kim. Aren’t you a pretty little boy?” he said in the same gruff voice as before. “Why am I not surprised Don would have such an… effeminate boy?”
“I’m not effeminate!” CJ stated finally, knowing it was the opposite of true, considering how much he’d been leaning toward the feminine side of things lately, but, unfortunately, it looked like this guy wasn’t too fond of that sort of thing.
“With the hair and those features? You don’t even try to make up for it. Long hair, pretty little face like your momma. You a faggot, too?” he asked, coming closer and standing before him. “You look like one.”
“Wh-what are you talking about?” CJ stuttered.
He snorted. “What I thought. Won’t even deny it, will you?”
“Look, I don’t know what you think you’re talking about, but I’m not—“ Pain lanced through his cheek as his head snapped to the side. He gasped as he turned back, seeing his eyes gleaming with enjoyment at backhanding him.
“Shut the fuck up,” he growled. “You are nothing, do you understand? You are nothing but a convenient pawn in my game. That’s it. Just know I’ll take special care of you since you look like the type that likes it rough, too.”
CJ licked the blood off his lip and stared at him. “P-please, don’t—“
“I said, shut up!” he snapped, backhanding him again.
Breathing heavily, CJ closed his eyes, trying to make this whole situation one of his dreams. When he opened his eyes, he was still looking at the enormous man who had taken him. He ran his tongue over the split in his lip and said nothing. He didn’t want to be hurt if he could avoid it. Maybe this guy was going to ask for a ransom? That would be fine because his father was a doctor; surely, he could afford a ransom. If it were a ransom, he wouldn’t hurt him. He couldn’t.
“You’re going to be a problem just like your fucking father, aren’t you?” he said, grabbing CJ by the chin and twisting his head to the side.
His father? What did this have to do with his father?
“If you want anyone to blame for your situation, blame him. He’s the one that put your ass in this position.”
CJ tried to be silent again, breaths coming fast, almost to the point of hyperventilating. But he had to know. “What’d my father do to you?” he managed.
“What did your father do to me?” he said, snapping his head to the side and letting go of him finally. “He got me thrown in a hellhole, that’s what. He and Randy. They stood in front of the court and told them what I’d done when I thought they’d have my back. But they didn’t, and now they’re gonna pay for it. In their blood.” He smiled. “Rather your blood. But you’re that fairy mother fucker’s son, so it’s his blood too.”
“My father’s not gay!” he snapped suddenly, frowning at the accusation.
He arched a brow at him. “How do you know what happened out there in the desert, you little bitch? We spent a long time without seeing a woman, and I just bet your dad was the one to lie down and spread his legs for Randy. That’s why they fuckin’ stuck together.”
“Who is Randy?” CJ couldn’t help but ask. He’d never heard of anyone named Randy.
“None of your fuckin’ business!” he snapped, reaching out and grabbing CJ by the back of the hair and pulling his head backward.
For a second, everything stopped, and CJ wasn’t staring at this guy. Instead, he was staring at Iman from his dream. The same feeling of horror and knowledge rolled over him at the sudden realization of what this man was to him. He was death. Without warning, he leaned forward and licked a stripe up the side of CJ’s neck, making him shiver and gasp out, trying to squirm away from him.
He stood up and glared at him for a moment. CJ didn’t know what to think as he felt the dampness drying on his neck. Why did he do that? Why would he if he hated him so much? He let out a shaky breath and bit down on his split lip, sending a sharp pain through him. It kept him grounded, though, and the image of this man didn’t turn into the dream villain again.
“Huh, you’re a fuckin’ fairy bitch like your AIDS-lovin’ father,” he said, and CJ swore he had a look on his face that didn’t match his words. “But you got one more, don’t you? You wanna be a girl so bad you can taste it, don’t you?”
CJ’s eyes widened a bit, and he just wanted this man to stop and go away. He just wanted to be left alone. He tried to deny what he was saying but couldn’t lie. The words stuck in his throat as he tried to say something, anything. “That-that’s not—“
He smiled then. “Oh, I think I’ve struck a chord, haven’t I?”
“Please,” he whispered, looking up wide-eyed at him. “Just don’t—“
He laughed then, leaning over suddenly, grabbing him at the wrist where they were tied down. Moving closer to CJ’s face, almost nose to nose, he growled out, “Tell me, does your dad have all the Boy George and George Michaels albums? Maybe even arranged back to front so they can buttfuck each other, hmm?”
CJ had no idea who Boy George and George Michaels were, so he just ended up looking more confused than before. This man thought the fact that it confused him was apparently amusing, because he had an incredibly smug look on his face.
“That’s what I thought,” he said, standing back up suddenly.
CJ had no clue what this guy wanted. He had gathered that his dad had done something to him, so he guessed it must have been when he was in the military or something as a medic. His dad never talked about that time in his life, saying it was a bad time for everyone, and no one wants to listen to old war stories, anyway. So, all CJ knew was that he’d been in Desert Storm and spent a lot of time overseas before he was born. That had been after he served in the Korean military for his two years, of course, but he’d always been a doctor.
“Fuckin’ faggots, what you all are,” he mumbled, glaring at him, and there was just enough light that CJ could see a scar that ran near one of his eyes. It looked like he’d nearly lost the eye.
He snorted, reached into his shirt pocket, and pulled out a syringe. He uncapped it and grabbed hold of CJ’s arm. CJ jerked his arm a bit, and he only squeezed harder.
“Be fuckin’ still before I just jab it in your fucking face.”
CJ froze, watching as he slid the needle into him and pushed the plunger down. He winced at the slight pain it caused and breathed a few times deeply. Then, he looked up at him and saw him observing.
“That should take care of you until the bitch gets here,” he mumbled.
He took the empty syringe, turned around, and headed back up the stairs. As he left, the world faded around the edges of CJ’s vision. He felt good, though, as the drug hit his system. He nodded his head forward, and if it hadn’t been for the ropes holding him in the chair, he would have slid out of it.