5

THE ROOM WAS BLACK, and the air smelled of oil, musk, urine, and death. Kyle felt as if something was cutting into his chest, and when he opened his eyes and looked down, he saw the ropes. Christ, he was tied up. He wanted to call out, scream for help, but it seemed he was gagged, too. He looked through the dark gloom, and saw a lump a few feet away. What the hell was that? He couldn’t really tell. He tried to blink away the cobwebs over his eyes. Jesus, what the hell? They weren’t real cobwebs, but there they were nonetheless, like spider legs crossing his eyeballs.

He looked over at the inert ball a few feet away from him, but still couldn’t quite make out what it was. The blackness was deeper in the corner there, even than it was where Kyle had been dumped.

He tried to move his legs, but of course they were tied, too. How could this have happened? What the hell were he and . . .

that other person (if it was a person and not a dead animal or something) doing in this shithole, anyway?

The last thing he remembered was that he was at school, and that the driver had come for him . . . a little early, it seemed, and he’d climbed in the back and started talking on the cell phone to one of his friends, Sam, and they were driving . . .

The pirate standing in front of him suddenly broke off Kyle’s musing about what happened. The guy was about six feet three and he had on a freaking pirate hat, and an eye patch, and he wore one of those old coats — what did they call them . . . greatcoats, with fancy turned-up collars, all made of leather — and the guy had a beard, and when he smiled, he was missing a few teeth.

Kyle couldn’t breathe.

The guy was smiling at him, and waving to him, and Kyle felt as though his bowels were going to loosen. And the guy, who now seemed to have a huge cutlass in his right hand, was walking toward him, laughing and pointing at him, though utterly silent.

And Kyle was scared shitless.

But then the pirate, all six foot three of him with giant gleaming sword . . . was freaking gone.

Like that. Bingo. Gone.

Kyle fell back against the wall, terrified.

Not only was he kidnapped, but he was losing his mind, too . . .

He was . . . had to be . . .

And then he thought of drugs.

No, he wasn’t exactly losing his mind. Though he was out of it.

Drugs. It had to be drugs. Someone was drugging him — had drugged him — and the pirate was just a hallucination.

But so detailed, though. And so huge, hovering over him . . .

And what of the ball over in the corner?

Was that a hallucination, too?

He looked over at it . . . tried to whisper, but all that came out was a muffled sound.

Hey, who you? Hey . . .

Hard to even make it out as speech.

But the ball moved a little (or did he?) . . .

Yes, it seemed to. Moved a little.

Heeeehhhh!

The ball scraped around on the cold stone floor.

Kyle saw the ball sit up. Turned out not so ball-like after all. Even with the gag, and the scratches on the cheeks, even with

the dark cutting into his eyes, it was a face Kyle knew very well.

It was his younger brother, Michael.

He looked over at him and tried to shuffle across the floor. Got maybe three inches — and then something pulled him

back. He looked down at his feet, and realized the rope was tied to an old heating unit.

Somehow that detail made Kyle want to cry. Chained like a dog, or an animal.

Both he and his brother.

Now he felt the fear descend down on him like a lead sheet. He looked over at his brother. He could see him a little better

now. Guess his eyes were getting used to the dark.

He could see Mike’s eyes, and he wished he couldn’t. Because there was such terrible fear in them. Worse than himself. Far worse.

And there was something else, too.

Anger, fury. As though it was somehow Kyle’s fault that they were in this horrible situation.

Like he had anything to do with all of this. For Christ’s sake!

But it would be just like his younger brother to hold him responsible for . . .

Now he heard a noise. Coming from the back of the room.

A door creaked, footsteps, oh, Jesus Christ . . .

This wasn’t any icy hallucination. This was a real person heading toward them.

He looked up and saw this huge bearded guy hovering over him. A guy with deep black eyes and a balding head. And a scar under his eye.

A guy with huge, powerful hands who grabbed Kyle and ripped off his shirtsleeve with one swipe.

And then Kyle saw the needle in the guy’s hand. He tried to pull away, but there was no escaping . . . and he felt the needle burn into his arm, felt something oozing out of it and into him, like a snake going through his innards.

He wanted to cry and he wanted to scream. But he could do neither.

All he could do was fall back against the wall. He was sleepy, so very sleepy, and then . . . he was gone.

No dreams, no sounds, no brother, nothing. Nothing at all.

The bearded man did the same thing to Mike, and watched as he fell over on his side.

Then the bearded men checked the two boys’ bonds and, finding them satisfactory, he went back the way he’d come, back into the light of Pier Two at the docks in San Pedro.