72 Hours... Chapter 1

The quiet rumble and swaying of the bus lulled three of the five members of Nsync into various levels of sleep. Their assigned bodyguard, Mitchell Lewis and the bus driver were the only ones well rested enough to stay awake during the gray, cloudy late afternoon.

Near the front of the bus, Lance was seated at the kitchenette table, asleep with his head resting on his arms, folded on the table's surface. In front of him sat a short stack of papers he had been working through for his businesses, Freelance and A Happy Place.

Joey lay in his bunk, nursing a sinus headache. It was always difficult being on the road, adjusting to the various climates they traveled through, but during the height of allergy season he suffered the most. For the moment, he was floating on a benadryl cloud...two hours earlier he had found it necessary to lay down when the medication caused him to fight wave after wave of dizziness each time he stood up.

And, last but not least, on the couch in the back lounge, directly behind the bunk area, lay JC, who had long ago succumbed to the urge to sleep and was now quietly snoring under a thin blanket, the sound of the television quietly providing some background noise.

Mitchell had settled down behind the bus driver, James Havard, and the two quietly passed the time, speaking of their families and friends back at their respective hometowns of Houston and Little Rock.

As the trio was transported to their next destination, Justin and Chris remained behind fulfilling some obligations of their own. Justin was meeting with various potential donors to his foundation while Chris was going over some contractual negotiations with a popular department store chain wishing to carry the FuMan Skeeto line of clothing.

Eventually, the two groups would be meeting up with each other in about 24 hours to prepare for a photo shoot and interview for an entertainment magazine before moving on to Detroit for a private party members of their manager, Johnny Wright's, family was having in his honor. They were scheduled to perform there before leaving for Orlando.

The schedule, as far as Johnny was concerned, was crazed but necessary sine the group had just ended one leg of their new tour and had a short interim before the kick off of their second leg of the tour in Europe, which was slated to start in the early fall. The group had many proverbial irons in the fire, but, in all honesty, wouldn't have it any other way, if asked by anyone and that is what makes them unique in the industry.

* * * * * * * *

“Are you finished for the day?” Chris asked Justin over the phone. He and his bodyguard, Dre Thomas, were seated in a limo speeding along a busy downtown avenue on their way to the hotel he and Justin, along with their bodyguards would be staying for the night.

“Almost,” Justin replied as he stood at the end of a hallway of a high-rise business building not too far from their hotel. “Mike and I should be at the hotel in time to pick y'all up for supper or something.”

Justin absent-mindedly played with his tie and glanced out the window. It was always humbling to him to watch so many people scurrying about so far below him. Each one of those people had his or her own lives to lead...their own troubles...their own...

“Hey, J?” Chris interrupted the young man's thoughts and he quickly cleared his throat in half embarrassment.

“Yeah, what?” he asked softly, chuckling into the phone.

“Caught you,” Chris replied as softly as he joined his friend in laughter before sobering. What he was getting ready to say would surely disappoint Justin.

“I wanted to let you know that Dre is shaking his head on going out tonight. Apparently, the cat is out of the bag and there's no way we're going to get out,” he said regretfully. Many a night had been spent locked up in hotel rooms rather than out on the town due to safety issues concerning not only the group, but also those fans who might disrupt the safety of those around them.

At the end of Chris's statement, silence reigned over the line for a few seconds then a little sigh on Justin's end effective broke it.

“Oh, well...maybe next time,” he said with a touch of frustration in his voice as he watched his bodyguard, Mike Headnot approaching him. He understood that those men who been hired by the group to keep them safe were only trying to what was thought to be in their best interests...but it would be nice if every once in a while they would be allowed to be somewhat normal, even if only for one evening.

“Hey...Dre just said he's buying tonight,” Chris said brightly, ducking the playful slap aimed for his head by the large man seated next to him.

“Oh, well in that case, tell him I want a large, steamed Maine lobster and a nice juicy prime rib,” Justin answered with a laugh as he glanced to his left and saw that he was being summoned back into the boardroom to complete the next portion of his presentation.

“Listen, Chris...I need to go. I'm up to bat again,” Justin said quietly as he quickly stood then walked toward the open door. “We'll catch up with y'all pretty quick.”

“Give me a call when you're on your way in and...good luck,” Chris replied as their vehicle stopped. Closing his phone, he watched Dre get out of their parked limo to check the hotel's back entrance to see if it was safe for him to enter.

Justin turned off his phone to prevent any interruptions during the meeting, while, across town, Chris jumped out of the limo and ran to Dre's side then into the hotel.

* * * * * * * * * *

The conversation at the front of the bus had become quiet with Mitchell reading the latest John Grisham novel while James watched a car in the side mirror, following rather closely behind the bus. It was common practice for the buses carrying the members of Nsync, their band, crew and others to travel the less congested highways and roads in the hopes of avoiding fans who might cause accidents in their haste to catch a glimpse of who might possibly be on one of the buses. And, on more than one occasion, James, or one of the other drivers had had to alert the local sheriff or police departments or state troupers of less than safe drivers. As James continued to watch the vehicle traveling behind them, he was beginning to wonder if he would have to do it again.

“Hey...Mitchell,” James called out quietly over his shoulder. “Ummm...we've got someone following us pretty close.”

“Really?” Mitchell asked as he put down his book to stoop down behind James so that he could have a better glimpse at the side mirrors. He could clearly see a dark blue car following the bus...its front bumper easily within twenty to thirty feet of the back of the bus.

“Go check on the guys, Mitch,” James said as he continued to glance at the mirrors every few seconds. “Make sure their situated okay...you know...just in case.” The bus driver didn't want to have to worry about one of the young men falling from precarious sleeping positions if he happened to need to take evasive action against the vehicle behind them.

“Sure, James,” Mitchell replied as he left the front of the bus to check on the sleeping young men.

In the kitchenette area, he saw that Lance was no longer at the table, but had moved over to the long couch that lined the opposite wall. His right arm hung slack over the side of the couch, his fingertips just brushing the carpet beneath them. Mitchell gingerly lifted Lance's arm, tucking it at the young man's side before pulling a thin throw blanket off the back of the couch, covering him...all of this done without even waking him. Lance was usually a very light sleeper but the group's hectic schedule, along with his growing business, were apparently beginning to take their toll on him.

Mitchell then moved through an narrow doorway leading to the sleeping area, pausing at the front of the only bunk hidden by a heavy, dark curtain. He could hear steady breathing coming from behind the curtain, and, very carefully, he parted the material, revealing Joey sleeping heavily, his back to the curtain. His t-shirt was riding up his back, his sheets a tangled mess around his legs. The bodyguard could easily sympathize with the sleeping figure. He had battled his own allergies just a week or two ago when the group passed through an area of highway being mowed by that state's highway department. The dust that had been kicked up on the ten mile stretch plagued him for the next two days and he became very good friends with his prescription allergy medication. As quietly as possible, Mitchell pulled the curtain to before making his way to the very back of the bus.

As he stepped through another narrow door, Mitchell saw JC's body lying slack across the couch. He was curled around a pillow with a thin blanket covering the lower half of his lanky form. Out of the three, Mitchell knew JC could sleep through absolutely anything. With a small grin, he remembered the time that the young man had slept through a small earthquake in the LA area about two years ago. Then, just a few months ago, during a storm so severe that the management for the hotel they were staying was forced to move the majority of its occupants to safe areas. Unable to readily awaken his charge, Mitchell had simply flung JC's limp form over his shoulder then carried him to the stairwell where they had been told to wait for more security to meet them and lead them to a safer location. Mitchell was certain he would never forget the look of astonishment on the young man's face when he awakened the next morning in another room, on another bed, pressed between Joey and Justin's sleeping forms. That situation was a source of running jokes and gags for weeks and only now was no longer mentioned when group members had to share hotel rooms on odd occasions.

With a shake of his head and a small chuckle, Mitchell quietly stole back thro0ugh the length of the bus, rechecking one more time Joey and Lance as he passed by them. Once back at the front of the bus, he stooped down to take another look at the vehicle behind them.

“Still there, huh, James,” he stated in a voice that was a mixture of annoyance and growing concern.

“Yep,” James answered in a clipped tone. “Boys still asleep?”

“Like babies,” Mitchell replied. “What do you want to...whoa...wait a minute, James. Here they come.”

James immediately tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his gaze darting from the road ahead to the mirrors on either side of the bus as the car moved up along the side of them, easily keeping pace with them.

“Move up, Mitch,” James said. “I want them to know I'm not alone. Pull out your phone, too.”

“Can't...it's in the back on my bunk,” Mitchell answered, his voice tight as he stood up and moved down into the driver's area in time to see a car load of young men...maybe three or four of them...all in their mid to late twenties looking in their direction. The man in the front passenger seat rolled down his window and yelled in their direction as he pointed toward the rear tires of the bus.

“You've got a problem back there...looks like you're going to lose the tread on the inside tire!” he shouted once James had opened his own window. Mitchell looked at the young man's face, noting what seemed to be genuine concern.

“Do we believe them?” James asked as he turned his attention to the road ahead, not wanting to take the chance on another car coming from the opposite direction. “I haven't felt any difference in the way the bus is riding or driving.”

“Me neither,” Mitchell added. “But you're the driver...I'll go with whatever you want to do.”

“There's a sign for a picnic area up ahead...we'll stop there,” James said.

“I'll get out and take a look,” Mitchell said. “You can stay inside with the guys and lock the door behind me.”

James nodded as he began slowing down, while, at the same time, noting that the car was pulling in behind them as they turned off the main road onto a more narrow lane lined with oaks and full of potholes. Seconds later, he opened the door of the bus then chanced a glance at the left side mirror as Mitchell stepped outside. He then turned to look at the right side mirror and noticed that Mitchell was no where to be seen. Almost instantly, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled as he reached toward the button to close the door.

“I think you need to come on out here, mister and join your friend,” a young man firmly stated, pointing a shotgun at James.

“Don't touch anything, either,” he added when he noticed the bus driver reaching to the other side of his hair, his fingers just brushing against the holster of a pistol he was in the habit of carrying.

James stopped his movement then slowly stood up, his hands in front of him as he stepped off the bus. He kept his eyes trained ahead, not daring to glance back into the bus. He didn't want to give away the fact that there were others inside. As his feet hit the ground, he was quickly pushed toward the back of the bus where Mitchell was lying on the ground, his hands bound behind his back and a shotgun leveled at his head.

“Down on the ground, mister,” another one of the men said as he pointed a pistol in his direction.

Minutes later, James and Mitchel were effectively rendered immobile on the side of the lane, their hands and feet bound and mouths gagged. Helplessly, the pair watched as three of the four young men boarded the bus, before driving away while the fourth followed the bus in their car.

'Please, God...help us...help the boys...” Mitchell silently prayed as he wrenched his wrists back and forth in an effort to free himself while James just shook his head in a mixture of horror and astonishment...three members of Nsync had just been kidnapped.

* * * * * * * *

The first thing that alerted Lance to the fact that something wasn't right was the unsteady rocking motion of the bus along with a sudden, sharp turn. The second was an strange voice yelling for the driver to watch it. Before he could even sit up, a masked figure strode into the kitchen area and yanked him off the couch with one swift movement. Lance fearfully shouted out but was silenced when he was felled with a glancing blow to the head. The intruder stood over Lance's crumbled form, wiping the blood from the butt of his pistol before moving toward the back of the bus while another of the strangers flipped Lance over to this stomach to bind his hands behind him.

Joey slowly awakened from his drug-induced sleep when he felt a draft on his back. He immediately thought that either Lance or JC...maybe even Mitchell, was checking on him and he turned over to face them only to yelp in fear when he found himself facing a masked stranger with a gun.

“Turn back around...hands behind you,” the man said as he brought the gun to rest on Joey's forehead. In response, Joey shuddered, closed his eyes then quickly reopened them all in the hopes that it was only a nightmare, but was horrified to discover his was very much mistaken.

“Still here...still waiting,” the man said as he cocked the hammer of his pistol. “Turn over...now.”

Joey numbly nodded then turned his back to the man before putting his hands behind him.

“Please...take what you want...just don't hurt anyone,” Joey said quietly, wincing at how tightly his hands were being bound.

“Don't worry...we're taking exactly what we want and, if you cooperate, maybe we won't have to hurt you...” the man said before turning the gun in his hand. “...too badly, that is.” With that, he swung the butt of the gun in a short arch at the back of Joey's head. Seconds later, the stranger moved toward the back of the bus, leaving Joey's unconscious form lying limply in his bunk.

“What's going on?” JC asked, watching the approaching figure. He had awakened seconds earlier and had heard a strangers voice then witnessed Joey's being hit over the head. Now he was fearfully facing the same individual.

“Nothing for you to worry about,” was the quiet reply.

“What do you want?” JC asked as he scooted along the couch in a futile effort to move away from the man.

“We want you and the other two,” was the simple reply as he cocked his pistol the motioned for JC, who was now noticeably shaking, to move to the floor. “Now...down on the floor...hands behind you...and...maybe...,” the stranger said, turning his head as he watch JC follow his instructions. “...maybe you won't get hurt...too badly.”

72 Hours Chapter 2

Johnny Wright stared at the phone in his hands with a mixture of disbelief and fear. Just moments earlier he had ended a phone conversation with state police informing him that three fifths of Nsync had been kidnapped and that the group's bus driver and bodyguard had been found, relatively unharmed, at a roadside rest area by a young couple.

As the manager continued to stare at the phone, he replayed a portion of his conversation with Mitchell, Lance and JC's bodyguard.

“Yes...we're okay, Johnny,” Mitchell had answered in a weary tone. “They didn't hurt me or James...just tied us up and left us on the side of the road.”

“What about...” Johnny had begun, but he hadn't been able to find his voice to finish the question.

“I don't know, Johnny...I'm sorry...but...I just...I don't know,” Mitchell had whispered.

Mitchell's quiet, broken voice caused Johnny's nausea to grow even stronger. JC...Joey...Lance...they were somewhere out there, with strangers.

Several seconds had ticked by, the only sound heard were the unsteady breaths both men were taking. Finally, he had been the one to clear his throat in an effort to regain his composure. He realized that if he didn't get a hold of himself, he wouldn't be of any help at all to the boys, their families, or to the rest of the group. He also knew that he had to be thankful that, although JC, Joey and Lance were missing, James and Mitchell had been found and both had the ability to provide the police with some information that could help in finding the three young men.

“How long was it before you were found?” he had asked Mitchell, trying to guess how much of a head start the kidnappers had over the police.

“At least an hour...maybe two and that was more than two hours ago,” the bodyguard had sadly replied. “We were kind of hidden behind some bushes...the road didn't have much traffic so it took a while for us to be found.”

The trooper had also explained that, after the pair had been found by a young couple and released from their bonds, it had taken state troupers almost fifteen minutes to reach their remote location then it took an additional thirty minutes for the pair to ride with authorities to the location where they now were.

“What did they say, Mitchell...the kidnappers,” he had asked, remembering how desperate he had sounded to his own ears. “Did they say anything that might tell us where they took the boys...what they wanted...or why they were doing this...anything?”

“No, sir...nothing, nothing at all,” had been the quiet reply. “We didn't push for much since they all had guns. We just figured that they were out for a joy ride or something until they asked us how many members of Nsync were on the bus and who they were.”

“They knew it was one of our buses?” he had asked incredulously. “How could that have happened? Very few people knew where they were going and what they were doing.”

“I don't know, Johnny...I just don't know,” Mitchell had answered.

Those questions needed to be answered, but, as it stood, for now, no one had a clue as to how things could have leaked out about their travel route, destination, or who was actually on the bus. Somehow, someone had to have known something and now, Johnny had to be concerned about the safety and well-being of Justin and Chris.

Johnny shook his head, trying to clear it, then quickly began making phone calls. He needed to warn those bodyguards who had remained with Justin and Chris then he had some very difficult calls to make to three set of parents but those would need to wait until authorities made it to the hotel. They would coach the manager on what to say and what not to say to the parents.

* * * * * * * *

JC lay blindly on his belly in the lounge area, at the back of the bus...blindfolded, his mouth taped shut, his ankles and hands bound. He had no earthly idea how long he had been lying on the floor and was totally disoriented, confused and scared out of his mind.

Somewhere on the bus were individuals holding him, Joey and Lance against their will. He had no idea how many kidnappers there were or where they were being taken. Even more heart wrenching was the fact that he had no idea how Lance and Joey were doing. He knew that the man who had tied him up had also tied Joey up then hit him over the head with the butt of his hand gun. He could only assume that the same thing had happened to Lance near the front of the bus where he had last seen him some time earlier when he had headed for the back of bus in need of a nap.

For some odd reason, he had been left otherwise unharmed. He could only surmise that the kidnappers possibly needed someone to answer questions...provide information.

JC couldn't bear to think about what may have happened to their bus driver or to their bodyguard. He and the others knew the bodyguards were there to put themselves between them and any dangers that might occur, even to the point of losing their own lives...the bus drivers were also willing to do whatever was required to keep the group safe. Since he was certain they wouldn't be in this mess if Mitchell was alive, JC could only assume the very worst and did. He also had to assume the same fate for James since he couldn't be driving the bus...the ride wasn't as smooth or effortless as the group was accustomed to and he had heard several items crashing to the floor after feeling the bus sway and lurch around turns in the road.

Surely, someone would notice the erratic driving and alert authorities, but, then again, maybe not. JC realized that, more often than not, rural, desolate routes were selected as much as possible when moving from one location to the next and, this trip had been no exception. Before he had gone to the back to take a nap, he and Lance had taken the opportunity to look at the mapped route James was taking and, from what they could tell, they would officially be in the middle of nowhere for several hours during their trip to the Detroit area.

JC pushed those thoughts aside and, for a short amount of time, he struggled against his bonds only to find that his efforts were fruitless...his attempts only serving to further exhaust him, causing feelings of helplessness to nearly overwhelm him. Ultimately, the only thing he could possibly do was to just remain still, concentrate on his breathing, which was somewhat hampered by his tape gag, and strain to hear any movements from the kidnappers or signs that Joey and Lance were okay.

At the thought of his friends, JC choked back a sob. He was so scared for them and felt despair at their predicament. In an effort to remain calm, JC inwardly prayed for their safety as the bus continued to travel to an unknown destination.

* * * * * * * *

Justin had just finished with his portion of a meeting with several board representatives of many well known corporations. He was seeking donations for his foundation so that new goals for the 2001-2002 school year could be met. He was hoping to place musical instruments into the hands of students of area school districts, as well as offer funding grants to districts wishing to improve existing music programs.

Just as he was answering questions, his bodyguard, Mike Headnot quietly stepped into the room and made his way over to Justin's side. He placed his hand on Justin's shoulder and the young man looked up questioningly at the unexpected intrusion...Mike had never stepped into one of his meetings before. Astonishingly enough, Justin saw an expression he had never once seen in Mike's eyes...fear.

“Umm...excuse me ladies and gentlemen,” Justin politely apologized as he stood up, pushing his chair to the side. “This shouldn't take but just a moment or two.”

Justin then followed Mike to a far corner of the room. “What's wrong,” he whispered, his back turned to the men and women behind him. “I'm kind of in the middle of something here, Mike.”

“We're leaving now,” Mike said, grasping Justin's left shoulder, his grip a little stronger than before.

“What?” Justin asked in confusion. “Did something happen?

“Not here, J,” Mike answered. “I'll tell you once we get out of here.”

Justin numbly nodded, possible scenarios bouncing about in his mind. Someone was injured...or sick...was it a family member or member of the group...a close friend? He shook his head to clear it then turned around to address the men and women who had observed their brief exchange. Taking a few steps forward, with Mike right at his side, Justin cleared his throat.

“Umm...I'm sorry but...due to some unforeseen circumstances, I'm not going to be able to answer all of your questions at this time,” he said quietly, trying to keep his voice calm and even as his eyes darted back and forth among the faces looking back at him.

“Please feel free to email or fax your questions to the addresses and numbers that I placed in the information packet,” he said, gesturing toward those leafing through their copies. “Thank you for your time and attention and...again, I sincerely apologize for having to leave so abruptly.”

With those words said, Mike quickly hustled Justin out of the meeting, into the hallway, keeping one hand on the young man's elbow.

“Mike? Mike?” Justin said quietly, trying to fight his growing fear as he and Mike stepped into an elevator. The bodyguard quickly punched a button that would take them to the parking garage below the building where their driver was anxiously waiting for them then turned to look at Justin.

“Johnny wants to tell you, J...it's all good,” Mike answered as the elevator's doors closed. “I don't know any details...but...it's all good, Curly...it's all good,” he added, his tone as unconvincing as his words.

* * * * * * * *

Mitchell Lewis and James Havard had been sitting in a small conference room of an upper New York state police department for more than an hour...both silently lost in their own thoughts...neither willing to voice their fears for the three young men who had been kidnapped more than four hours ago.

Mitchell was kicking himself for encouraging James to pull over when they had been told that there was something wrong with one of the buses' back tires, while James was just as angry with himself for not acting more quickly when his gut told him something wasn't quite right about the men who had urged them to pull over.

Silence continued to reign in the room until the door opened and several police officers walked in. James and Mitchell immediately stood up and introductions were made before everyone took their seats.

“We have some questions to ask you both,” said one the officer, who had introduced himself as Detective John Carroll.

“We've already answered so many of your questions,” James blurted out in frustration...his voice rising along with his anger. “All we've done is answer questions...someone needs to be looking for those boys!”

Mitchell flinched at the harsh tone of voice coming from the usually quiet, mild mannered bus driver, but he had to give the detectives a great deal of credit...none of the men tried to calm the distraught man down by using placating phrases. Instead, they had remained in their chairs, quietly waiting for James to calm himself, which happened several minutes later with him apologizing for his outburst.

“We know both of you are very upset with what has happened to you and you're very worried about Joshua, James and Joseph,” Detective Baines said quietly, glancing at his notes as he referred to JC, Lance and Joey.

“JC...Lance...Joey,” Mitchell corrected him. “Their names are JC, Lance and Joey.”

“My mistake...sorry about that,” the detective replied as he wrote the three names in his notes.

“These questions are frustrating and we apologize for that, gentlemen,” Detective Jeffrey Merchant stated. “But you need to understand that they must be asked in order to move our investigation along as quickly and efficiently as possible,” he added, gazing at both men, nodding. “Many of these questions we need to ask have already been covered but we need for you to answer them again as specifically as possible...we need as many details as you can possibly recall. No detail will be too small or insignificant. Anything you can remember could be the key that we need in finding those boys.”

“Yes, sir,” Mitchell said as he watched another one of the officers place a small tape player before them.

“Speak clearly as possible,” the officer said, as he pushed a button on the recorder.

“State your names, please and your relationships with the three victims,” the same officer said, motioning toward Mitchell.

“Mitchell Lewis. I'm one of the members of the security team assigned to protect members of the music group, Nsync.” At those words, Mitchell had to take several deep breaths in order to calm himself. He had failed at his job and the consequences for that failure may be high...too high.

“Take your time, Mr. Lewis,” Detective Keith Gerard said, understanding the emotions the men seated across from him had to be feeling.

Mitchell nodded then quietly completed answering the question.

“Specifically, I'm assigned to watch over James Lance Bass and Joshua Scott Chasez.”

James took a deep breath, keeping his gaze on his hands, which were folded on the table.

“I'm James Havard and I'm a bus driver for Nsync. I share duties with three others in driving the bus assigned to Joey...Joseph Anthony Fatone and JC...or, Joshua Chasez,” James said, stumbling through his statement, wincing when saying Joey and JC's names.

“Where had you left, Mr. Havard and exactly where were you heading and why?” Detective Ryan Baines asked, his pen posed above a notepad.

“We had just left Albany and were heading for the Detroit area for some work the boys had to do for a magazine,” he began, rubbing his right thumb over his left hand. “From there we were going to a private engagement for some friends of the group's manager, Johnny Wright.”

“Excuse me...Wright?” one of the detectives interrupted. “Mind spelling that for me?”

“W-r-i-g-h-t,” Mitchell replied to the question. “I have all of his contact information available...” he added, reaching for his billfold, flipping it open before pulling out two business cards.

“Here you go,” he said, pushing the cards across the table.

“Thank you,” Detective Baines said before turning his attention back to James. “There are more than just these three young men in the group right? Where are they right now?”

“Justin Timberlake and Chris Kirkpatrick had to continue with some business in the New York City area. They were to meet up with us in Michigan late tomorrow evening.”

“You've already contacted Mr. Wright?” the detective asked, nodding when Mitchell acknowledged that he had already called Johnny. In all truth, it had to have been the most difficult phone call he had ever made in his entire life. How do you tell your employer that three young men he considered as close as his own sons had been kidnapped in broad daylight...just whisked away?

Mitchell was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't hear the next question until James placed a hand on his shoulder.

“What? Did you ask me something?” he asked in confusion as he wiped his hands over his face.

“That's okay, Mr. Lewis...we understand,” Detective Gerard said with a sad smile. The question was repeated and, for the next two hours, Mitchell and James went over the events leading up to the kidnapping as well as those afterward in the hopes that their answers might somehow help speed up the investigation and lead towards finding the boys as soon as possible.

* * * * * * * *

Johnny paused outside the hotel suite's door. On the other side of that door would be two young men whose lives would be turned upside down in the next few minutes with his words. Johnny brought a trembling hand to his face.

'How am I going to do this? What will I say? Dear Lord...please help me...please give me wisdom...give me the words...' he silently prayed before knocking on the door then nodding at Mike when the door opened.

Minutes later, Johnny was sitting on a couch in the living area when Chris walked out of the bedroom behind the couch.

“Hey, Johnny...what's going on?” he asked as he entered the kitchen area. “Weren't we supposed to start eating like...an hour ago?” he added, glancing at his watch before opening a cabinet door to reveal a variety of snacks provided by the hotel. “I don't know about you guys, but I'm starving.”

“Where's Justin?” Johnny asked in an uncharacteristically quiet voice, ignoring Chris's question all together.

“Ummm...he's in the shower,” Chris answered, turning to look at the man as he opened a bag of pretzels before popping one in his mouth. “Justin mentioned that you have something to tell us...is everything okay, Johnny...you look like something's bothering you.” Chris was trying to read the manager's face but wasn't too certain about the emotions he was seeing as he briefly leaned against the kitchen's counter, digging out another salty snack with his fingers. Unsatisfied with what he was seeing, he came around the end of the couch and was surprised at how pale the manager had suddenly become as well as the beads of sweat that were forming on his forehead and upper lip.

“Hey...Johnny? Are you...are you going to be sick?” he asked, glancing around for a nearby waste basket, dropping the bag of pretzels on the nearby table.

In response, Johnny waved him off. “See if Justin can come in here now, Chris,” Johnny ordered, staring down at his hands, missing the look of concern being thrown his way.

“In a minute, Johnny...first I want you...” Chris began but Johnny quickly interrupted him, using a tone of voice he didn't hear too often from the usually easy going man.

“Now, Chris...now.” Chris stepped back in surprise and with a slight frown replied, “Okay, Johnny...be right back.”

At that, Chris left the room and Johnny sank further back into the couch. He dropped his head into his hands, realizing, for the first time, not only how hard his hands were trembling but how damp they were with sweat. He took a deep breath in the hopes that he could somehow find the strength to explain what had happened to JC, Joey and Lance without breaking down. Resolutely, he lifted his head then wiped his hands on his jean clad thighs in an attempt to dry them.

'Father...please...please give me the strength...give me the words...be with me...be with the boys...please,' he inwardly pleaded. He was so lost in his silent prayer he hadn't realized Chris and Justin had entered the room until Chris cleared his throat. He glanced up in time to see the look that passed between Chris and Justin...one that screamed, 'see...I told you so.' With an inward sigh, he came to the quick conclusion that Chris must have said something to Justin about the way he was acting but he couldn't be bothered with that fact now.

Chris crossed the distance between Justin's bedroom and their manager then knelt down before the older man placing a hand on his knee.

“What's going on, Johnny?” Justin asked in a small voice before Chris even had the opportunity to speak...his face full of confusion at the sight before him.

Johnny cleared his throat then looked first at Chris then Justin, his eyes beginning to fill with tears as he began speaking.

“There's something I need to say...it's not going to be easy.”

Suddenly, Chris's stomach dropped as he realized that what Johnny needed to tell them had to do with

the others and he quickly stood up.

“What's happened to them, Johnny?” he asked in a scared yet demanding tone, his face revealing just how nervous he was becoming.

Justin stepped closer to the pair. He had never seen Chris this upset before...or Johnny, for that matter.

“Who...who are you talking about, Chris?” he asked, his voice breaking as fear set in. He didn't know what was scaring him more...Chris's tone or Johnny's lost expression.

Chris ignored Justin's statement and lowered himself to sit beside Johnny on the couch.

“Get it together, Johnny...” in a more demanding tone...almost fierce as his fear rapidly turned into anger. “Tell us what's happened to them!”

“They've been kidnapped,” Johnny answered, barely above a whisper before putting his hands back over his face.

Chris leaned back against the couch, feeling as if Johnny's words had kicked him in the stomach, his breath literally taken away, while Justin took one staggering step backwards, slamming into the doorway he and Chris had just, moments before, stepped through.

“Who?” Justin asked as he leaned heavily against the door facing...Johnny's words had drained him of all strength.

“JC...Lance...Joey,” Johnny answered as he leaned back into the couch while bringing his hands down into this lap.

“How...when?” Chris choked out in disbelief.

Johnny cleared his throat. “Four men...ummm...tricked James into pulling their bus over...somewhere northwest of here. They motioned and yelled that something was wrong with the tread on one of the back tires,” Johnny said, as he continued to gaze at his hands.

“James...and Mitchell...were...uh...forced off the bus...and left on the side of the road...at a remote rest stop...tied up...but they weren't harmed in any way. And...that was more than five hours ago.”

As Johnny finished, Chris felt himself come unglued.

“And we're just now hearing about this?” he yelled as he jumped up from the couch. “Why are we just now hearing about this, Johnny?”

As the manager tried to calm Chris's ranting and raving, Justin remained silent in the back ground, struggling to comprehend what he had just heard.

'Kidnapping...they've been kidnapped...oh, no...no...no.' Although Justin's thoughts were fast and furious, he slowly found himself becoming dizzy...woozy...the room began spinning and tilting crazily as he also found himself abruptly without the ability to draw in a breath. He could no longer hear over the roar resonating in his ears...his vision was slowly beginning to tunnel in until there was only a pinprick of light...then nothing. As the darkness took over, he never felt his body hit the floor.

* * * * * * * *

'Don't cry...don't cry,' JC ordered himself as he tried to shift his restrained body into a more comfortable position only to find that it was an impossible task. In growing frustration and fear, he realized that if he did happen to begin crying, he wouldn't be able to breath...the thick layer of tape over his mouth was making the job difficult enough as it was. As a result, he stilled his futile movements, deciding to concentrate his efforts on remaining calm and simply breathing...choosing to ignore the tears prickling at the back of his blindfolded eyes.

'I'm okay...I'm okay...' he told himself. 'Stay strong...stay strong for Joey and Lance..stay strong...you're alive...they're alive...stay that way...gotta stay that way.'

Approaching footsteps instantly caused JC's heart to beat faster in his chest and his breaths became shallow and short. He turned his head blindly in the general direction of the foot steps then cringed when he felt a heavy hand tightly grasping his right bicep, pulling him up into an awkward seated position.

“Sit up, Mr. Chasez,” a deep, disembodied voice said roughly from above.

JC gritted his teeth beneath his gag as he struggled to comply with the order then felt the ropes binding his ankles together being untied. As he felt the ropes drop away, the blood seemed to rush toward his feet and he couldn't stop the muted moan that escaped his taped mouth. JC was then pulled up from the floor and made to stand, both his arms were held firmly as he struggled to gain his balance...the rocking motion of the bus in addition to his inability to see making things even more difficult for him.

“We need you up front,” the voice said while strong hands pushed him ahead, holding JC steady as he took small steps toward the front of the bus.

Seconds later, JC was turned around then pushed down until his rear met a chair in what he thought to be the kitchen area of the bus. His ankles were rebound as another voice spoke to him.

“I'm going to remove your gag, Mr. Chasez. You will not speak unless spoken to. If you choose not to comply with those instructions, I may have to punish your friends.”

JC shuddered at the heavy responsibility being placed upon his shoulders then nodded when another voice asked, “do you understand?”

Without warning, he felt a hand on his face causing him to involuntarily cringe but another hand forcefully grasped a handful of his hair, putting any and all movements to a halt. The hand on his face slowly pulled at the sticky tape, making JC swear that his skin was being peeled away with it.

“Water?” a voice asked from behind, once the task had been completed.

JC cleared his throat, coughed, then licked his lips, wincing at the bitter residue left by the tape. “Yes...please,” he answered, hearing the sink faucet being turned on then off.

Seconds later, JC felt a straw at his lips and he slowly sipped the water offered until there was none left. He pulled away from the straw and heard the glass being placed into the sink behind him.

'Thank you,' he mouthed, unsure if being polite would somehow help out in their situation.

“You will answer some questions for us, Mr. Chasez. If your answers are satisfactory, we will put you with your friends.”

JC nodded, almost too fearful to speak up now as the weight of his responsibilities set in. He was certain that the questions would be related to money but greatly surprised with the first one.

“Are there any medical conditions that we need to know about with you, Mr. Fatone and Mr. Bass?” a different voice asked.

'Oh, no...he didn't ask about James and Mitchell,' JC's mind screamed but he quickly calmed himself, realizing his answers were necessary in order to keep everyone safe.

“Lance has a heart condition...an irregular heart beat. He takes a pill and some baby aspirin daily,” JC quietly replied before adding, “Joey is taking benadryl for some pretty severe sinus headaches. His head's been stuffy for a few days and he's fighting an earache.”

“And you, Mr. Chasez?”

“Nothing...I'm fine,” JC answered, inwardly grimacing at how ridiculous his answer was. Of course, he wasn't alright...he was tied up, kidnapped and being taken to who knows where.

“Where are these medications?” the voice asked, interrupting JC's thoughts.

“Lance keeps his in his shaving kit under his bunk and Joey keeps his in his bunk, under his pillow.”

More questions were asked concerning the group's finances and JC answered each as carefully as possible in the hopes he was giving just enough information to satisfy the kidnappers without going into to great of detail.

Finally, after the questions had ended, JC heard the sound of tape being pulled from a roll, telling him that he was about to lose the privilege to speak and he wasn't ready for that yet...he had a few questions of his own but wasn't sure if he was willing to take the risk and speak out of turn.

'What do I do?' he asked himself before deciding to take a chance.

“Please...may I ask a few questions...please?” he asked in a small voice as he moved his head in the general direction of where he had heard the last voice come from.

The silence following his question was oppressive...almost suffocating in nature, causing JC to fear that he may have very well made a wrong move.

“I know I wasn't supposed to speak out of turn but it's just a few questions about my friends...please,” he pleaded, his tone almost desperate as he continued to blindly look about him.

“Okay...go ahead,” a voice said from in front of JC and he slumped in relief before drawing in a shaky breath.

“Please...tell me...where are James and Mitchell? Are they...okay?”

“Who are they?”

“Our bus driver and bodyguard,” JC replied, steeling himself for the answer only to feel relief when he heard they were no longer on the bus.

“Where are Lance and Joey?” JC next asked, once again readying himself for the answer.

“Joey, as you call him, is in his bunk and Lance is behind you, on the couch.”

JC nodded at the answers, feeling more than a little relief in just knowing where his friends were and the fact that they were within a few feet of him.

“Please...can you tell me why you're doing this?” JC asked quietly, not knowing if he really wanted an answer or not to the question.

“Just because,” was the reply. “Now...close your mouth.”

Although he had more questions, JC complied with the order...he didn't want to push his luck any further than he already had. As he placed his lips together, he heard the sound of tape being torn then felt a hand grasp the back of his head while another firmly pressed a strip of tape over his lips, effectively sealing them shut.

“Your answers were good, Mr. Chasez,” a voice said from above him. “You will be joining your friends momentarily when we switch vehicles.”

At that bit of information, JC felt his stomach plummet...if they left the bus for another vehicle, the police's job of finding them would be made even more difficult.

As if on cue, JC felt the bus slowing down, turning to the right, swaying back and forth as if the driver were trying to avoid potholes. Once the bus came to a complete stop, JC was pulled to his feet then quickly propelled forward where another pair of hands grabbed his upper arms, stopping him in his tracks.

“Stand here,” a voice said then,“Ready?” it asked. Not knowing if he was the one being asked the question, JC simply nodded then couldn't help but yelp into his gag when first, he was pushed from behind, then lifted onto the shoulder of one of the kidnappers. The sensation of blindly floating was very disorienting and JC was more than relieved when he was slowly lowered to the ground then lifted once more before being placed into, what he thought to be, a van. He was ordered to lie back then rolled from his back to his stomach before his ankles were rebound.

He could hear voices in the background...one in particular seemed to sound strained, as if he was carrying a heavy burden and JC's heart lurched into his throat as his imagination began to run away with him...were his friends hurt...where were they going...why was this happening?

JC flinched when he felt a body being placed beside him. He wanted to reach out to the person, knowing that he would surely be able to identify them by touch alone but his bonds wouldn't allow him that movement. Seconds later, he felt the vehicle dip once again as another body was placed into it.

One of the kidnappers had to have been reading JC's mind.

“Mr. Fatone is lying beside you...Mr. Bass is on the other side of him. They are both unconscious, for the moment but will be okay.”

JC choked back a sob, nodding his head in response. His friends were with him...now he could concentrate on getting them out of this situation. As JC became lost in his thoughts, he didn't realize there was another individual in the vehicle near his head.

“Before we get under way, though, we need to do a little housekeeping as far as you're concerned, Mr. Chasez,” a voice said, startling JC with how close the person was. JC felt one of his shirt sleeves being pushed up then felt something damp being moved across his bicep, the obvious odor of alcohol invading his senses. Suddenly, he realized what was going to happen and it would involve something he feared most...needles. Involuntarily, he pulled away from the hands, mumphing into his gag in protest, only to still all movements when he heard the distinct sound of a gun's hammer being cocked and felt the end of the muzzle harshly pressed against his neck.

“Need I remind you, Mr. Chasez...your words and actions have a direction effect on the well-being of your friends,” a voice calmly stated from above. “If you want your friends to remain healthy and in one piece, you will allow my colleague to do his job...do I make myself clear?”

JC swallowed before numbly nodding in response to the question...shuddering as, once again, alcohol was rubbed over his bicep.

“That's much better, Mr. Chasez,” the voice said as JC stilled all movement to the point that he was barely breathing.

“You're going to feel a sting, then, in a few minutes, you'll be asleep until you awaken in your new home for the next 72 hours.”

JC felt the needle prick and quietly moaned into this gag as wave after wave of what could only be described as warm, heavy darkness begin to ease its way up his body. And, as he felt himself helplessly being pulled into the darkness, JC felt the tape covering his mouth being removed only to be replaced by a cloth gag, allowing him to breath somewhat easier. Then, just as JC could feel himself sliding into unconsciousness, the vehicle he, Joey and Lance were in lurched forward, taking them to an unknown destination even further away from their friends and family.

72 Hours... Chapter 3

Within seconds of Justin falling limply to the floor, Chris was at his side, gently lifting the young man's head from the carpet, cradling it in his trembling hands while Johnny ran out into hallway to get help from one of the bodyguards.

“Justin...J?” he murmured as he ran a hand over his friend's pale, clammy face, not even noticing when Mike and Dre knelt down on either side of Justin's still figure.

“Chris...you need to get back,” Mike said calmly as he bent over Justin, running his hand over the young man's forehead before gingerly lifting one of his eyelids. At the same time, Dre ran his large hands over Justin's head, murmuring words of encouragement to Chris before gently pushing the younger man to the side. “You need to let me get a good look at him, Chris...move over...it's okay...he'll be fine...it looks like he just fainted...it's okay, man.”

“I don't think he hit his head on the way down,”Johnny said, bending over to place his hands on Chris's shoulders, gently tugging the unyielding young man back while Dre gently lifted Justin's head from his hands.

“Give them some room, Chris,” Johnny added when he continued to feel some resistance to his efforts.

“For just a sec, Chris,” Dre said, as he gently pushed Chris aside while speaking to Mike.

“We need to get him face down, Mike...just in case he gets sick then we need to prop his feet up on something,” he added, glancing about the room in search of pillows they could stack or a low table or chair.

“Johnny...drag that table over here,” he said, pointing over his shoulder at the coffee table not three feet behind the manager.

“Chris...go get a wet washcloth,” Mike instructed, trying to keep the young man busy before he and Dre carefully straightened Justin from his awkward, crumpled position then turned his body face down, his arms lying limply at this sides. They knew that the position was rather unorthodox, but the boy's physician, Dr. Kenneth Shannon, had told the bodyguards that this was the best possible position to put anyone in if they ever fainted or passed out. If the victim did happen to get sick, he would less likely to inhale anything they expelled than if he remained on his back.

Minutes later, Justin's knees were bent, his feet awkwardly propped up against the coffee table and Chris was gently wiping his pasty face with the wet cloth as he spoke in quiet tones in hopes he would awaken soon.

“If he doesn't come to in about five minutes, we'll need to call the hotel's doctor,” Dre said as he knelt back down by Chris to hand him a new, wet washcloth.

“I've already called him when you were turning him over,” Johnny murmured, not taking his eyes off the pair of young men on the floor. “He should be here in a few minutes.”

Just as Johnny finished his statement, Justin gave a small moan and slightly moved his head while a knock sounded at the door.

Several minutes later, under the physician's instructions, Mike and Dre hefted a very disoriented and drowsy Justin from the floor and carefully half-carried him into his bedroom where he was placed upon his bed.

“Tell me again...when did the episode occur?” the doctor asked, pulling his stethoscope off the back of his neck then bent over Justin, who was slowly but surely becoming increasingly aware of what was going on around him.

“About...ten, maybe fifteen minutes ago,” Johnny answered, glancing quickly at his watch, not even certain he was giving accurate information.

“Has he ever fainted before?” the physician asked as he straightened from his stooped position to retrieve a thermometer from his bag.

“No, sir,” Chris answered from the opposite side of the bed where he had stationed himself to hold Justin's left hand just as soon as he had been placed on the bed.

“Has he been ill lately, complaining of headaches, dizziness, nausea?”

“No, sir. We've been on tour and he's more than likely exhausted,” Johnny answered for Chris, giving the young man a look that meant, 'let me handle it.' He didn't want any information of the abduction of Joey, Lance and JC to be let out, if at all possible. Apparently, Chris and the bodyguards were on the same page since their answers had all been very general.

In the meantime, with a nod of his head, the physician allowed Chris to crawl onto the bed and settle himself right along side Justin, with his back against the bed's headboard. Things still appeared to be very hazy for Justin, his reactions to questions and requests from the doctor were very slow and sluggish, but when the bed had dipped with Chris's weight, he seemed to sense who was by him and automatically turned onto his side to face him.

As the doctor finished his examination, administering a shot containing a light sedative, Justin became completely aware of his surroundings, but was able to hide his reeling emotions until the doctor finally left the room, much to every one's relief. During the time that he had faced Chris, he had felt the older man's hand slowly run over his curls and heard the quiet words of encouragement and reassurance, but as soon as the bedroom door had closed behind the doctor's retreating form, the dam holding his tears in check broke and quietly, he sobbed.

“How is he?” Johnny asked the doctor as he anxiously hefted his cell phone from one hand to the other. He was prepared to call Justin's mother, Lynn Harliss, if necessary, or even Justin's father, Randy Timberlake since he was somewhat closer to where they were. Fortunately, the doctor's words soothed those fears, alleviating the need to make any emergency phone calls to parents, but heightened others.

“He's more than likely suffering from exhaustion, but I do have the distinct feeling that Mr. Timberlake also received a bit of a shock...maybe some bad news,” the doctor answered, gazing intently at Johnny and the two bodyguards, but their expressions yielded no answers and he inwardly shrugged. He had, through the years, been called into situations involving various celebrities and, more times than not, been met with the same stony expressions and vague language from those he treated and their companions.

“Well, I'm glad that he's not ill,” Johnny said carefully as he put on his best expressionless face that he had cultivated through his many years in the entertainment business. “What kind of instructions do we need to follow for Justin's care?”

“He needs rest. I'm also going to prescribe some medications that will help him in getting that rest. I've already given him one light dose of the sedative and I want him to take an additional oral dose this evening. He'll need to follow the instructions on the bottle for the rest of the doses until the medications are gone.”

“Can the hotel have this filled?” Johnny asked as he fingered the piece of paper that had been handed to him. He recognized the prescription that the doctor was prescribing and he inwardly groaned. Justin was going to be either out like a light for the next 24 hours with the two doses he would have today and would, more than likely, be a walking zombie for the next several days if he took the entire dosage.

“Yes...if you'd like me to, I'll just take it with me and have it filled and delivered to you within the hour,” the doctor said as Johnny passed the paper back to him.

“Is there anything else that Justin can take, doctor, besides what you're prescribing?” That's pretty strong medication for him. From past experience, he didn't function well at all when his home physician prescribed it to him last year,” Johnny stated, pointing at the piece of paper.

“It is strong medication, Mr. Wright, but Mr. Timberlake is in need of rest and, if I understand his profession well enough, sleep isn't always consistent nor is it always restful, hence the medications,” the doctor replied in a tone that left no room for argument. Wearily, Johnny nodded in agreement as he sighed. He knew that Justin wouldn't be resting at all with the situation surrounding JC, Joey and Lance and, if that was what he needed, then that was what he was going to get.

“Let me know, Mr. Wright if he shows any signs of dizziness or has another fainting episode. There is always a physician on site here at the hotel and when Mr. Timberlake returns home, he needs to see his primary physician so that he is aware of what happened. Here...this is my card,” he said, holding out a business card that he had pulled from his jacket's breast pocket. “Have Mr. Timberlake give this to his doctor so that he can contact me and I can fax any necessary documents to him.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Johnny replied, handing the card to Dre as Mike escorted the physician out of the suite and into the hallway.

Once Mike had returned to the room, Johnny dropped onto a nearby couch and held his head in his hands.

“This can't be happening,” the manager moaned aloud to no one in particular. “This can't be real.”

* * * * * * * *

Two of the four kidnappers stood assembled at the top of the cellar stairs looking down at the three unconscious, bound and gagged forms lying upon mattresses on the dirt floor below. The two remaining kidnappers moved from one inert form to the next checking vital signs and taking notes.

“Everything sounds good. Bass's heart murmur is a little pronounced, but we'll give him his meds when he wakes up,” Barrett called up to Lawrence and Cary, while Zachary finished retying Joey, JC and Lance's hands in front of their bodies with duct tape.

.

“How is Fatone's breathing?” Lawrence asked, as he walked down a few steps in order to have a better view of Joey's still body. Earlier, on their way in their van to their current location, Joey had experienced a brief period of labored breathing. They figured that it was due to his gag hampering his abilities to properly breathe and removed it. He was given a shot of benadryl to help with his allergies and, once his breathing returned to normal, the gag was replaced.

“I still can't believe we pulled this off,” Zachary said to Cary from his position by JC. “I mean...geez...two of us are med students and the other two are law students and we've turned kidnappers and...for what?”

“Hey...don't forget the professional bus driver in this little group,” another voice added, from the top of the stairs.

“Hey, Carl,” Lawrence replied, watching his older brother walking down the stairs. “Zach wants to know what we're doing this for,” he said in slight amusement, gesturing toward the three still figures down below.

“Prestige...money...being debt free,” Cary answered as he turned his back on the three standing on the stairs. He was beginning to feel his own uncertainties of what they had done, but he wasn't going to let anyone else know how he was feeling.

“Maybe, we're in it for a little revenge, too...isn't that right, little brother?” Carl added, slinging an arm over Lawrence's shoulders. The others looked at the pair in confusion, but before anyone could question what had been said, Lawrence spoke.

“Y'all need to hurry up. We need to be ready for the blond to read the list of demands to his management when he wakes up,” he called over his shoulder before climbing back up the stairs behind his brother.

“Hey, Larry...I need to ask you something,” Barrett called out as he stood up from beside Lance then trotted toward the stairs.

Lawrence nodded and made his way toward the doorway at the top of the stairs while Barrett took two steps at a time to catch up with the older men.

“I'll help Zach,” Cary said with little enthusiasm as he descended the stairs and joined the other in finishing their tasks.

“Here,” Zach said, tossing a roll of heavy duct tape to Cary. “Use it on their ankles and wrists.”

“What about gags?”

“We'll just leave the cloth for now,” Zach replied as he bent down before JC to remove the ropes binding his hands and feet. “If they happen to wake up and pull them out, no one but us will hear them.”

With a sigh, Cary began working on Joey, all the while thinking of how he had heard his roommate's crazy idea on how they could alleviate some of the debts they had accumulated with medical and law school and out of hand gambling. He had scoffed at Lawrence and thought his friend was either drunk or high the night he had shared some of the plans he and his brother had come up with. Cary had been certain there would be no way they could possibly kidnap a well-known celebrity and hold him for ransom. Then, when he had heard the new plans that had been formed by Barrett, Zach, Lawrence and Carl...plans that involved kidnapping more than one celebrity, he thought his friends had truly lost their minds. He had studied the plans and realized that nothing was left to chance...they were well thought out...detailed beyond reasoning and seemingly fool proof. Now, months later, looking down at three of the five members of the world famous pop group, Nsync, he realized the true meaning of lunacy.

“Finished here,” Zach said, interrupting Cary's thoughts. Cary watched as his friend stood up from JC's side and headed for the stairs. “I'm going to get their meds ready. We'll give Chasez another dose of valium to keep him out of it. We'll need to be careful with the other two.”

“You know, Zach...benadryl would work just as well and with fewer side affects...easier to get, too,” Cary suggested, wanting to keep the young men as safe as possible, in that respect at least. “We'll just have to space out the doses to make sure their respiratory isn't compromised.”

“Sounds like a plan,” the other answered over his shoulder, watching as Cary took one more opportunity to move among the still, unconscious figures before making his way to the stairs. Just as the pair began their ascent up the stairs, Lawrence and Cal appeared at the top of the stairs.

“We think we left something down here,” Lawrence said, as he and his brother pushed their way between the pair. Cary shrugged his shoulders at Zach's questioning glance then followed the other through the doorway.

“You want us to leave the door open for you?” Zach called out, holding the door to the kitchen open.

“Nah...go ahead and close it,” Carl answered, glancing up at the younger man. “We won't be down here for very long.”

“Okay.”

The pair heard the door close as they headed into the middle of the room where they quietly stood looking at JC's still form. The young man was lying on his back, dark circles under his eyes, his face flushed. His features were not bruised like those of his friends. Next, the pair saw that Lance had been left lying on his right side so that Cary and Zach could keep an eye on the still oozing scalp wound he had been given on the bus. Finally, Joey had been left lying on his left side since there was a large lump on the back of his head, behind his left ear.

“Hump...I can't believe we did it, Carl,” Lawrence whispered, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Yep...all for Pops,” his brother added, with a small grin, taking in the sight before him.

“You doing okay, big brother?” Lawrence asked, glancing at the other man to establish how he was handling seeing his employers lying unconscious before him. “Do you have a problem with this?” he added, gesturing toward the scene before them.

“Only if it fails,” his brother answered with a short laugh. “Remember...we're doing this to make sure he knows what we went through...he'll begin to understand...he will...I swear.”

The pair stood there for several moments, their thoughts tumbling about, mixed with bitter, angry memories of their father's failed business ventures that eventually led to his end. While Lawrence had become a law student to enact revenge upon those he felt had mistreated their deceased father, Carl had decided to become even closer to their sworn enemy and made every effort to be hired on to the WEG team when his younger brother found that justice was too slow and, more often than not, was not served, according to his standards. That line of reasoning was what had led the pair to plan their own revenge against the man who had caused them to lose their father to a premature death several years earlier. Unfortunately, they found that the man who he felt wronged his father was also dead, but that didn't matter to them. They had found an outlet for their anger...the man's son.

More than two decades ago, Lawrence and Carl's father, Jacob Davidson, had been involved in a fairly lucrative business when the boys were still in diapers. Jacob had been working with a business partner that he had known for several years. Regrettably, this new business partner had not been aware that Jacob had managed to hide the fact that he had had poor business sense in the past and had lost incredible amounts of money in several ventures. Eventually, Jacob made a critical miscalculation with the venture he was sharing with this partner, causing the business to go belly up. Lawrence and Carl's father had become overwrought knowing that he was the true reason behind the one time successful ventures demise, but he had not wanted that fact to get out. As a result, he caused several things to happen which allowed others to believe that he had not been the catalyst behind the failure, placing the blame solely on his partner. The guilt had eaten away at him, but the brothers were totally unaware of the facts that had been so well hidden by their father. In their young minds, their father, their hero, was not to blame...it was Chris Kirkpatrick's father, JP Kirkpatrick.

Although fairly young, Lawrence and Carl had seen the results of Chris's father's supposed mistake...their own father's failing health, the disintegration of their parents' marriage and their mother's alcoholism, all the time never knowing that their father was the true cause of all their problems.

In time, their father not only declared bankruptcy, but had also squandered what little savings the family had on one get rich quick scheme after another, each time failing miserably. As a result, the boys grew up in a broken home bent on revenge against the man they both hated...John Paul Kirkpatrick. And, since JP was dead, the next best place to lay blame was at the feet of his successful son, Christopher Alan Kirkpatrick.

“You know...I had hoped Kirkpatrick would have been on the bus...but this might be even better,” Lawrence murmured, turning in a tight circle as he stared at the inert bodies on the ground.

“Yeah...we might be able to make this work even better in our favor,” his brother added, nodding as a new plan began to form in his mind only to begin giggling seconds later. He had a wonderful idea that could possibly be the full culmination of the revenge they wanted to exact against Chris and his family.

“What's so funny?” Lawrence asked with a small smile, turning to face Carl who had walked over to a desk set in the far corner of the room, kicking up dust from the basement's dirt floor as he went. His brother sat down in the chair and, with a slight yank, pulled open one of the desk's warped drawers. Soon, he had an opened spiral notebook resting on the desk, furiously writing with his brother looking over his shoulder. Several times, Carl scratched through what he wrote or tore out a page, wadding it up before writing again on the next clean page. After several attempts, with Lawrence's input, the pair was satisfied with what he had written. With a grin, Carl motioned for his brother to follow him upstairs.

“Those boys are going to have some company soon...real soon,” he chuckled as he excitedly mounted the stairs, taking the steps two at a time, with Lawrence following closely behind.

* * * * * * * *

Johnny wiped away his tears as turned off his cell phone. He had just ended his conversation with Roy and Karen Chasez. It had been painful enough telling the Fatones and Bass families about their sons' kidnapping, but telling the Chasez family their son had been kidnapped just days before his 26th birthday had been excruciatingly difficult. What could he say? How could you possibly give parents news that might mean their son may never see his next birthday?

The dam holding his tears in full check broke minutes later after the police had finished informing the local FBI of the situation. Overhearing the phone call had been overwhelming for the manager and he excused himself to his suite where Mike and Dre found him weeping bitterly. The bodyguards urged him to take all the time needed to compose himself and had left the older man seated on his bed, staring out the bedroom's window.

It had not been long after the initial phone calls to WEG that bodyguards Lonnie Headnot, Jamie Williams, and Simon Peterson flew out to New York and now the five men were seated in the suite's main living area, staring at each other as well as at the phone that police had wired, willing it to ring...hoping that it would be Lance, Joey or JC wanting someone to pick them up...to bring them home.

Lonnie slapped his large hands harshly against his thighs, unintentionally startling those around him.

“Sorry,” he said rather sheepishly after seeing the other's reactions. “I'm gonna go check on Curly and Crazy,” he added, as he stood up then crossed the room. He nodded at the two officers who were seated at the table in the kitchenette then stopped in front of the door leading to the bedroom where the young pair was sleeping.

The opening of the door didn't cause either figure lying on the massive bed to stir in their slumber. Lonnie doubted it would have anyway. Johnny had informed everyone that the medications that Justin and, finally Chris, had been given were strong enough to keep them under for at least the next 6 to 8 hours, if they were lucky.

Slowly, the bodyguard crossed the room to stand at the foot of the bed then stood staring at the pair, a sad expression gracing his normally jovial features. Even in sleep, both Chris and Justin looked utterly lost. Justin's forehead was creased with worry that Lonnie could only remember seeing throughout the very few times when the young man had actually been scared during their years of touring. There was the one time when Lance had nearly fallen off his rising pedestal when the platforms had first been introduced during rehearsals two or three years earlier. One minute everything was going fine, the singling was beautiful then in the next minute, screams of fright could be heard and everyone, much to their horror, could see Lance dangling by his fingertips precariously from the edge of his platform while the other boys were immediately ordered to sit still in the middle of their own. Luckily, the technicians operating the platforms had been on the ball and Lance was very close to the ground when his grip finally failed him and he fell into the waiting arms of several roadies and bodyguards.

The other occasion that came to mind had only happened very recently and involved an overly zealous and determined fan who had forced her way closer to the action on stage. She had somehow managed to storm the catwalk and, before security could come between her and the boys, she had Justin flat on his back, straddling him, screaming and pummeling him in the chest with her fists in the excitement of reaching her goal. Mike and Dre had been the first to reach the pair and pulled her off Justin, while Joey and JC pulled the young man to his feet and made a wild dash to the main stage then off stage. Neither Justin nor the young woman suffered more than a few bruises and both, in all reality, had been scared out of their minds...Justin just by the sheer surprise of the force behind her assault and the young woman by the fact that she had actually met her favorite singer of the group, although in a rather unorthodox and violent manner. She later stated to the police that she had no idea what she was doing and her statement was believed. Despite the urgings of Justin, the group's lawyers filed simple assault charges against the girl. As a consequence, she was required to pay fines and was given several hours of community service to complete.

Lonnie shook his head at the memories as he knelt down beside Justin's still form and, with a large thumb, gently began rubbing at the creases that had formed between the young man's eyebrows. Slowly, the creases and lines of worry relaxed, seemingly erasing years from his features. Seconds later, Lonnie was rewarded with a small sigh of contentment from the sleeping form. With a sad smile, the bodyguard stood from his stooped position and walked around to the other side of the bed to bend over Chris. He noted that his features were just as tight as Justin's had been, just moments earlier and went about administering the same treatment but, unfortunately, without the same results...Chris's features remained just as tense as before.

Lonnie shrugged then stood back up from his stooped position, while, in the meantime, Chris turned over in his sleep, his left hand snaking out to snag Justin's outstretched left arm. Lonnie noticed that, almost immediately, Chris's face relaxed, causing the bodyguard to shake his head.

“Well, Curly,” he whispered, “You got someone watching your back while you're in here...you're going to be okay.”

With that said, the large man quietly crossed the bedroom, opened the door and left the sleeping pair behind.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Hey...we've got an idea,” Lawrence announced excitedly as he entered the kitchen with his brother following close behind. “We know how we can make even more money.”

“How?” Barret asked, just as enthusiastically as he looked up from the newspaper he was reading. As far as he was concerned, this entire set up was an adventure that could not and would not fail. Besides that, no mention had been made of the kidnapping in the papers so, as far as they knew, things were in their favor that the upcoming demands would be met.

“Have the other two, Timberlake and Kirkpatrick bring us the ransom,” Carl answered with a certain gleam in his eyes that the others had not seen before.

“They'd never let them do that,” Cary replied in disbelief. “No way!”

“You know, Cary's right,” Zachary added. “There is no way their management will let those two out of their sight.”

“They will if the demands are tweaked just a little bit,” Lawrence answered with a grin as he handed a piece of paper to Zachary, who read it then, with wide eyes, handed it to Barrett. Cary looked over his should and read the new demands.

“That's nuts, Lawrence,” Cary blurted out after only making it half way through the document. “We can't do that...you're talking...you want to...kill one of them if we don't get our demands met?”

“Hey...in for a penny, in for a pound my grandma always said,” Barrett chimed in with a grin as he glanced about the room at his friend. “I say, let's do it...all the way.”

With that said, Barrett tossed the paper on the table then turned to the refrigerator and pulled out the makings for a sandwich.

“Anybody else hungry?” he asked as he place several items on the nearby kitchen counter.

“How can you think about food at a time like this?” Cary asked, his tone incredulous as he watched the others pulling things from the refrigerator.

“A sandwich sounds good, B. fix me one too, but no mayo,” Zachary said as he picked up the demands from the table to glance over it again.

“You're not getting cold feet are you, Cary?” Carl asked pointedly, suddenly standing in front of the young man to give him a scrutinizing look.

With all eyes now directed at him, Cary stepped back, raising his hands. “All I'm saying, guys is that we hadn't planned on anyone else other than those three,” he said pointing at the floor below his feet. “I just don't want us to get caught and for anyone to get hurt.”

As Cary spoke, Lawrence stepped to his brother's side. “All you need to worry about is keeping them alive. We'll handle everything else...right brother?” he added, gently elbowing Carl in the side.

“You know it, Larry...you know it.”

Justin and Chris sat forlornly at their hotel suite’s kitchenette table silently lost in their own thoughts. Justin loosely gripped his fork as he idly pushed about the food that was on the plate set before him. Chris, on the other hand, had not even bothered to pick up his fork since they had sat down more than 20 minutes earlier…he was sure that if he did happen to eat something, it would just come right back up…he was just too nauseous.

Johnny watched the pair from the adjoining living area of the suite knowing why neither young man had any appetite for the meal that he had ordered for them. Chris had complained about his stomach churning since he had awakened from his long drug induced nap while Justin said that he couldn’t bring himself to eat knowing that Joey, JC, and Lance could very well be going without the comforts that they all took for granted...food, water, shelter…the list was endless. Johnny also knew that the heavy medications that the hotel’s physician had prescribed were more than likely causing their appetites to disappear. Although the medications had been prescribed for Justin after his fainting episode, Johnny had been able to persuade Chris into taking one of the pills too when he was unable to rest well.

So, for now, both young men were on autopilot when it came to taking care of themselves. For the most part, Johnny and the bodyguards who were staying with them were making sure that they were resting and at least attempting to eat something.

Chris glanced at the slumped profile of Justin knowing that he had to somehow serve as an example to him. If he was able to remain somewhat in control of his actions, he felt sure that Justin might be able to follow suit. If they could just keep it together, then Johnny would have one less thing to worry about.

“They’ll be okay, J,” Chris said quietly before spearing a limp, cold green bean with his fork and putting it quickly into his mouth. With some difficulty he chewed the tasteless, waxy morsel then swallowed before spearing a baby carrot and a slice of squash. He frowned at what was on his fork then shoved the food into his mouth...nearly gagging in the process…nothing tasted the way it should.

“You need to eat…they’re going to need us,” Chris said, while slowly chewing what was in his mouth. He looked up from his plate and was saddened to watch Justin lay his fork down on his plate then push his chair away from the table. Chris suddenly felt powerless to help the younger man. How could he when he felt like he needed as much, if not more help for himself.

“I can’t…I mean…they might not be able…I can’t, Chris…I just can’t…I…”

The words tumbled from Justin, his voice shaking a little harder with each word…his bottom lip trembling a little more…before he quietly stood up and left the tiny area, heading for his bedroom, leaving Chris staring numbly at his retreating form. As the bedroom door closed behind Justin, Chris spat what was in his mouth into his napkin, nearly gagging in the process, then drank deeply from his water bottle.

“Neither can I, J…neither can I,” he whispered before putting his head in his hands and losing his battle with tears.

Johnny continued to sit on the couch, sure that if he attempted to stand, his knees would not support him. With almost pleading eyes, he looked at the four bodyguards seated throughout the room before leaning his head against the back of the couch.

“I’ll go after Little Bit,” Lonnie said, using his own nickname for Justin as he stood up and crossed the room to the closed bedroom door. Without knocking, the large man opened the door and entered the room, closing the door behind him.

In the meantime, Mike and Dre walked over to the kitchen area. Dre cleared the table, putting the half touched plates back on the rolling cart that room service had brought up while Mike pulled Chris’s chair back away from the table. Simon walked over to the cart and pushed it toward the suite’s door.

“I’m going to go check in with the security in the hallway…see what they’re up to,” he said before nodding at the policemen seated near the door. The two officers nodded their heads as one stood up and opened the door for Simon and followed him out into the hallway while the second officer reached under his chair for his coffee cup before standing and walking into the kitchenette, feeling awkward and intrusive during the brief moment of grief.

“Chris…come on…let’s get up so Dre can finish up,” Mike said, steadying the young man as he shakily stood up. The pair then slowly walked into the living area with Chris shuffling his feet along the carpet while Mike kept a gentle but firm grip on the young man’s left elbow until he sat down heavily on the couch opposite of Johnny’s. Mike sat beside him and the trio sat motionless for several moments.

When the silence became oppressive, the bodyguard glanced at the form sitting beside him and his heart ached at the sight. In the six or more years that he knew the young man, he had never seen him look as small and lost as he did right then.

With an inward sigh, Mike put his hand on Chris’s knee, gaining his attention before lifting his massive right arm up, giving an unspoken invitation…one that he had not had to offer in quite some time. Chris recognized the gesture and felt new tears find their way down his flushed cheeks scooted down the couch before laying down and putting his head on Mike’s thick thigh.

Upon feeling the bodyguard’s large hand resting on his forehead, Chris closed his weary eyes and gave a small, hiccupped sigh while the hand lowered to cover not only his forehead but also his eyes. Chris then felt Mike’s the large thumb stroke over his hair in a slow, almost hypnotic manner.

Chris tightly curled up, bringing his knees up to his chest and folded his arms over them, trying to contort his body into the smallest shape possible. Mike continued to gently stroke his hair with his thumb as he listened to the young man's breathing even out and become deeper as sleep once again took over. Several minutes later, Chris didn’t feel the hands that gently pulled him from his awkward, tucked position nor did he feel the blanket being draped over him.

“You haven’t had to do that in a long time, Mike,” Dre whispered as he sat down beside Johnny.

Mike simply nodded his head in reply and reached for a magazine that was lying on the end table beside him as his mind traveled back to the times when he had found himself to be in the same position with one of the young men resting against him. It had indeed been a long time since he had had to perform the simple gesture and this was also a first, as far as the person needing the comfort.

Mike allowed himself to think back to the time that he had been hired as the group’s head bodyguard…just a few months before they headed over to Europe with their former manager, Lou Pearlman, to begin recording their first album and tour the continent. Those times had been hard for all of the young men. Not only were they facing the pressures that their chosen career produced, they were also facing those pressures in a foreign land, thousands of miles away from family and friends. On more than one occasion Mike had provided comfort during bouts of homesickness for Justin and Lance, since they were the youngest members of the group…even JC and Joey had come to him in just a handful of occasions, but never Chris…not even once. Chris had been witness to the power of Mike’s knees and his hands…their abilities to chase away uncertainties, fears, and bad cases of homesickness, but not once had he had to prescribe to “Mike’s Remedy,” as the younger members of the group called it…not once…until now.

Mike set aside the magazine in his hands, knowing that it would go unread and he gently began to run one of his enormous, dark hands over Chris’s head, gently pulling at the dark spikes. Chris did not stir at the man’s touch, causing more than a small amount of relief to flow through Mike. He knew that what both Chris and Justin needed most right now was rest…rest and their friends.

* * * * * * * *

Dim awareness crept its way through JC, bit by agonizing bit. As the dimness gave way to clarity, JC’s first coherent thoughts were of Joey and Lance…where were they? Were they okay?

His next thoughts were of trying to gain a better toehold of his senses. Slowly, as the ability to command his muscles into action and have them obey came into play, JC forced his heavy eyelids to open. Immediately, he squinted painfully as the bare light bulbs hanging overhead assaulted him, instantly causing tears to form and blur his vision.

JC blinked his eyes heavily several times before his vision cleared enough that he was able to glance about the large room for any sign Joey and Lance. After several frantic moments of searching, JC was relieved to see both young men not too far away and choked back a sob of relief, not realizing that it was muted behind a gag...his mind was still too drugged to comprehend his situation entirely. For the moment, he concentrated on the forms of Lance and Joey, willing either one of them to awaken and look his way since each seemed to be either deeply asleep or unconscious, but those possibilities didn’t alarm JC. It was the sight of his motionless friends being tightly bound and gagged in awkward positions that caused him to attempt to move from the mattress that he was lying on.

He made an attempt to sit up and suddenly found that the movement was all but impossible, but his awareness still too fuzzy to immediately comprehend why he was getting no where until he took stock of where exactly his own hands were and why his feet were not moving.

‘Oh, no,’ he attempted to say when he realized that his hands were being held together tightly with several layers of heavy duct tape, but the only sound that he heard coming from his mouth was “ohm, nom.”

He then tried to open his mouth but failed and he suddenly realized that something was holding it closed…tape…lots of tape.

The sudden awareness of his situation brought a flood of memories to JC’s mind…the bus…the attacks…lying tied up in the lounge area…seeing Joey hit…Lance was in the kitchen area…his being blindly lead off the bus and placed into another vehicle…Joey and Lance lying nearby, unconscious…a needle prick…then nothing…nothing…nothing…nothing.

JC felt as if he was under assault as confusing and frightening memories continued to crash through the fuzziness being caused by the drugs that had been forced into his system…so much so that he didn’t notice the sounds of footsteps coming from the far end of the basement nor did he hear their approach. It was not until a pair of feet standing before him that JC’s thoughts were interrupted and he was startled when a veiled individual knelt down before him while another pair of feet descended the stairs in the background.

“Good to see that you are finally with us, Mr. Chasez,” the individual said with a deep voice as he reached out and snagged JC’s hair in one hand and the tape covering his mouth with the other. JC grunted in protest as he tightly shut his eyes, steeling himself for the coming pain but instead was surprised to find that the sticky layer of tape was being removed slowly and in a relatively painless manner. Once the tape had been removed, the man released his hold on JC’s hair and stood up. JC lay still, licking his dry lips…tasting the sour residue of the tape, all the while watching the figure standing above him.

“I don’t want you to talk unless you are spoken to,” the man said as he pulled a pair of handcuffs from a back pocket then bent over to set them on the floor.

“My friend over there will kill one of the others if you do speak out of turn,” he added as he gestured at the man behind him who was now kneeling over Joey’s still form.

As is on cue, the second man pulled a knife into view in one hand as he grasped Joey’s hair and pulled it back with the other, exposing the unconscious man’s throat to the thin blade, where it now rested.

In terror, JC shuddered and swallowed deeply while the man continued to speak.

“You’re going to have an opportunity to visit the restroom, Mr. Chasez. I recommend that you take it…it may be a while before your next one.”

JC numbly nodded his head then cowered in fear when the figure pulled a large knife from his belt. The man grabbed JC and quickly flipped him from his side onto his back and JC couldn’t help but tremble in fear at the ability to see what was about to be done. As the knife approached JC cringed at the man’s touch as he pulled his bound hands forward. JC felt two quick tugs then the tape holding his hands together was severed and JC hissed in discomfort as he brought his hands back down in front of him. He noticed that his wrists were not only slightly bruised and scraped, but it also appeared that an angry rash from the tape was beginning to become quite evident.

The man then pulled him into a sitting position and JC winced at the sudden change from the position that he had laid in for an unknown amount of time.

“Let me see,” the kidnapper said as he reached out and grabbed first JC’s right wrist, then his left, turning them over as he glanced at the angry rash and raw, slightly bleeding abrasions that surrounded each.

“I’ll take care of this after your visit to the restroom.”

JC blinked in disbelief at the man…one of his kidnappers being concerned over a rash, but he didn’t have long to try to make sense of the statement since the tape surrounding his ankles was quickly severed and he was slowly pulled to his feet.

A wave of dizziness washed over JC and he found himself to be swaying on his feet. The man kept a strong grip on one of his biceps as he allowed JC to stand as the dizziness passed only to be replaced with the discomfort of the feeling rushed back into his stiff limbs.

Several moments passed before JC could even begin to move rather slowly across the floor toward the small bathroom at the other end of the room with some assistance. As they passed first Joey then Lance, JC’s steps faltered. He desperately wanted to stop and check on his friends, but the grip on his arm remained strong and unforgiving…he would just have to wait.

“They’ll be okay,” the man said, feeling the young man’s hesitation in his steps and JC once again was shocked by the fact that one of his kidnappers seemed to be exhibiting some form of compassion with the small bit of information that he just gave.

The second man then stood up from his position beside Joey, much to JC’s relief and grasped his other arm and led him toward the restroom while the other walked over to a nearby bag, opened it and pulled out a stethoscope and blood pressure cuff.

JC almost forgot the orders not to speak as he watched in amazement as the man walked over to Joey’s still form and knelt down. The last thing that he saw before being pushed harshly toward the open restroom door was the man carefully taking Joey’s blood pressure.

“The door will remain open, Mr. Chasez,” the second man said as JC slowly entered the small restroom and turned to look at the man, giving him an uncomfortable gaze which was readily understood.

“You can be reassured, Mr. Chasez…I have no interest at all in what you need to do…go relieve yourself…now,” the figure said, slight amusement evident in his voice.

JC cringed as he realized that the man knew exactly what he had been worried about and that disturbed him even more than his original worries. He glanced once more at the man then, with an inward shudder, nodded his head and coughed slightly as he turned and walked further into the restroom. He stopped by the sink first and drank several deep swallows of water to relieve the dryness in his throat before walking over to the toilet at the far end of the room.

Several minutes later, JC exited the room and was escorted back to his mattress. He had a multitude of questions but held back any attempts to speak since the second individual had made it very clear that he should by once again kneeling beside Joey’s still form to hold a knife to his pale throat while the other man motioned for him to sit down on his mattress.

With quick and practiced movements, the kidnapper smeared a cream over JC’s wrists then wrapped a thin layer of gauze around each before picking up the pair of handcuffs that lay at JC’s feet.

“Hands out, Mr. Chasez,” he said as he held out the pair of handcuffs and reached for one of JC’s wrists.

JC winced as the cuffs were snapped over the bandages surrounding his tender wrists, but he was somewhat relieved that his hands would still be in front of him, causing thoughts of possible escape to surface and take shape in his mind.

He remained still as heavy duct tape was first wound several times about his ankles then around his legs, below his knees, once again effectively immobilizing him. Then, finally, one very long strip of the heavy, sticky tape was torn from the roll and, seconds later his mouth was once again taped tightly shut with the strip wrapped completely about his head two times.

When the man rose from his position and walked back to the bag, JC nearly laughed as he realized that he would easily be able to free himself from the tape with the position of his hands, but his elation did not last long. When the man turned back around to face him, he was holding a syringe filled with a clear fluid in his hand.

Instantly, JC recoiled from the approaching figure…his great fear of needles not only spurring him, but also the fact that, apparently, he was going to be drugged once again. In fear and frustration, he began wildly grunting his protests as loudly as possible into his gag, all the while futilely trying to move away.

“Mmmmmph…mmmph…mmmph…mmmph!” JC screamed into the tape, shaking his head furiously in objection at the figure kneeling down before him.

“Now…Mr. Chasez,” the figure said in a tone of voice that was bordering impatience. “If you do not cooperate, he will hurt one of your friends.”

As those words left the man’s lips, JC’s gaze flew to the man still kneeling beside Joey and he immediately stilled his movements while his screams of fear for himself turned into those of pure terror for his friend…the man’s knife blade was no longer a shiny silver…it’s tip was now red…a bright red with Joey’s blood.

JC’s heart pounded wildly as his gaze flew over Joey’s slumped body in an effort to find out where the blood was coming from. The man watched JC franticly search for the blood’s source and he raised Joey’s hands, turning them so that JC could see that he had run the knife over the palm of his left hand and the top of his right.

“I will do it again, if I have too…but this time it will be his throat if you do not cooperate,” the man said as he dropped Joey’s cuffed hands to the basement’s dirt floor.

JC closed his eyes and nodded his head, never feeling his shirtsleeve being lifted, or an alcohol swab being brushed over his arm nor did he feel the needle piercing his forearm. When he felt the hand grasping his arm release him, he opened his eyes, focusing his total attention on Joey, who remained bleeding and unmoving just a few feet away.

As JC’s awareness began to dim, he watched incredulously as the man before him rose and walked over to the nearby bag and rummaged through it before making his way over to Joey’s side with several items in his hands. JC stared in disbelief as the man knelt down and made quick work of cleaning the bloody hands then wrapping gauze heavily around them. A syringe was also produced and Joey remained motionless as medication was injected into his arm.

“I’m going to go clean this up, Cary,” the figure holding the knife said as he stood from his position by Joey’s body and turned toward the staircase.

“Don’t be too long…Lawrence wants to make that call as soon as Bass wakes up and we have to do some stuff before that happens.”

“Okay…be right there,” the other man said as he too stood up to put the remaining gauze into the bag. “I’m going to wait with Chasez until he’s out.”

The men’s voices sounded strange and garbled to JC as the medications slowly but surely began to take over his thoughts, confusing them and causing him to struggle to comprehend what was going on around him. He was also finding it especially difficult if not impossible to move about on his mattress…his muscles seemed sluggish and unresponsive to his muddled commands. He knew that whatever he had been drugged with was working rapidly and he would eventually lose the battle of remaining conscious.

In a mixture of fear and frustration, JC moaned quietly into his gag, gaining the attention of the kidnapper. The man knelt down before him and quietly spoke.

“As long as you choose to cooperate, Mr. Chasez, your friends will remain healthy and free of pain. It was your fault that Mr. Fatone was cut…your fault alone.”

JC’s drug cluttered mind heard the man’s words and took them to heart…believing he himself to be the soul cause of Joey’s injury…him alone.

‘My fault…my fault…my fault,’ JC’s mind chanted as the darkness engulfed him…pulling him into its deep, silent void.

72 hours, Ch. 5

An unknown amount of time passed by slowly for the three figures lying unconscious in the damp and dimly lit basement while the four men…the kidnappers…in the house above them continued to plot out their plans well into the night.

Throughout several visits down into the basement by the kidnappers, Lance had remained much in the same position that he had been placed in more than 8 hours earlier. Both JC and Joey had come to and had received injections of medications that returned them to varying levels of unconsciousness. Lance, on the other hand, had simply not awakened since he had suffered the heavy blow to his head when their kidnappers had taken the bus that he, Joey and JC had been riding on.

The fact that he had not yet awakened was beginning to cause some concern for the kidnappers, but the worries were for different reasons. As medical students, Cary and Barrett were growing more concerned with each passing hour that brought no change from the young man. Cary was afraid that maybe Lawrence had hit the young man over the head too hard and Barrett was growing nervous by the fact that not only was Lance’s heart murmur was more pronounced than it had been when the young men had been placed in the basement, his heart was also beginning to beat irregularly…sluggishly. With the young man being unconscious, Barrett and Cary weren’t sure how long they should wait before they would need to get some sort of intravenous drug to control the murmur and heartbeat…doing that could prove to be even more precarious for them than it had been in getting the drugs and equipment that they now had on hand. So, for now, they were adopting a wait and see attitude…waiting for Lance to awaken…waiting to see if the heartbeat would become even more erratic, throwing their plans even further.

Zachary felt similar concerns as Cary and Barrett, but not entirely. Sure…he was concerned about the fact that Bass had not yet awakened, but his thinking was branching off into a different direction in that if the blond did not awaken soon, their chances of receiving the full $12 million ransom would become much slimmer…especially if he never awakened at all.

Now, while the other three’s fears and concerns for Lance were somewhat humane, Lawrence’s were not in the very least. He only wanted two things. One, for Lance to awaken long enough to read out the demands being made and then…after that, he couldn’t really care less about what happened to the blond or to the two others lying in the basement below. As far as he was concerned, the three young men could remain in their drugged induced states until the money was paid and the four of them were on their way out of the country.

The money was an important factor, but Lawrence had even more driving desire behind Lance reading the demands…the chance to come face to face with the son of the man he had grown to hate. The demands that he had composed would require that the other two members of Nsync to bring a portion of the ransom to carefully selected location.

“I think we should go back down there and check on Bass,” Barrett said as he played with the stethoscope that was hanging around his neck while looking down at a sheet of paper that was being used to write careful records of the conditions of Lance, Joey and JC. Sure…the group had thought it was rather weird when Cary had demanded that they be kept, but now, with some of the complications that they were running into, he was rather glad that they had.

He looked over his shoulder at the others. “I think we could probably wake him up using an ammonia capsule…I mean…it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

“What do you think, Cary?” Zachary asked as he watched Barrett move across the room to another cabinet, which held all of the medical supplies that had been either stolen or hoarded in preparation for the kidnapping.

“I think that it might work, but I’m not sure if that would be good for his heart…we might run into some problems there, don’t you think, Barry?”

Barrett shrugged his shoulders as he searched over the shelves for the ammonia capsules.

“I guess we should probably take his pills down there, too…maybe something to relax him too, just in case.”

“Don’t knock him out,” Lawrence said harshly as he stepped into the room. “He needs to read the demands. After that…I don’t care…just keep him and the other two alive until the money is delivered by the other two.”

“Do you honestly think that their management is going to let the other two deliver the ransom?” Cary said incredulously as he watched the older man walk toward the refrigerator. “That’s just nuts, Larry…your idea is just plain crazy.”

Just as the words left Cary’s mouth, he knew that he had said the wrong thing. In an instant, Lawrence had moved across the room and had his large hands entangled in the younger man’s shirt as he propelled him backwards into a nearby wall.

Cary yelped in pain as his head forcibly bounced off the wall and he struggled to hear Lawrence’s words through the roaring that immediately filled his ears, filtering out all other sound.

“Don’t you ever…ever…say that I’m crazy…I’m not crazy…I’m not,” Lawrence said through clinched teeth, emphasizing his words by pushing Cary into the wall with each syllable.

“Hey…Larry…wait a minute, man,” Barry said in a near panic as he watched Cary’s pained and fearful gaze slowly become glazed over. He grasped Lawrence’s shoulders and tugged gently, not wanting to turn the man’s wrath in his direction, but hoping to stop what was happening all the same…especially when he watched Cary’s blue eyes begin to lose their focus, his eyelids fluttering as darkness encroached upon the edges of his vision.

At the same time, Zachary reached between the pair and grasped Lawrence’s hands in an effort to pry them from Cary’s shirt. There was a bit of a struggle but as soon as Lawrence’s grip was released, Cary’s knees buckled and he slid down the surface of the wall all the while cupping the back of his head in his hands as he quietly moaned before losing consciousness, his hands falling limply to his lap…his head lolling to the side as his body pitched forward.

No words were exchanged as Zachary continued his hold on Lawrence’s wrists and he pushed the man out of the room where he could cool off while Barrett dropped to his knees before Cary. With hands shaking, he carefully pushed the younger man’s body back into a seated position then grasped the younger man’s face and lifted his head up.

“Hey…Cary…come on…Cary…wake up, man,” he murmured as he gently slapped the young man’s face with the palm of his hand.

“Wha…don…stop,” Cary mumbled as he shook his head in an effort to bring everything into focus while Barrett continued trying to arouse him until the younger man’s blue eyes regained their focus and stared at him questioningly.

“Make a mental note, Cary,” Barrett said with a grim smile. “Don’t ever use the words crazy and Lawrence in the same sentence…okay?”

“Gotcha,” Cary said with a slight grimace as he accepted Barrett’s offered hand and allowed himself to be pulled into a standing position. A wave of dizziness passed over him and he slightly swayed as he reached out to grasp the arm of the man in front of him.

“Whoa…how are you doing there?” Barrett asked as he watched Cary slowly shake his head in, what he guess, was an effort to rid himself of the cobwebs in his head.

“M’kay,” Cary mumbled as he stood up fully and stared at his friend. His mind was still spinning in confusion over what had happened.

“Let me see,” Barrett said gesturing at his head. Cary turned slightly and bowed his head. “Looks okay…might want to put some ice on that, but we’ll do that later after we’ve gone downstairs.”

Cary simply nodded his head in answer to the statement. He was still in shock at Lawrence’s outburst. In all the years that he had known him, he had never encountered such uncontrolled anger from his friend. Inwardly, he shuddered as a new thought entered his mind. If Larry would treat his own friends in that manner…imagine what he might do to the young men in the basement down below.

A firm hand on Cary’s shoulder caused him to startle and he glanced up into the now calm eyes of Lawrence. For a few beats no words were said as the younger man did his best not to jerk away from the larger man. The small spark of fear in Cary’s eyes gave Lawrence a bit of a charge, but he decided to ignore those feelings. Instead he decided to concentrate on correcting the damage he had done with his outburst.

“Man…I don’t know what came over me back there…I’m sorry,” he said holding out his hand to Cary. Cary looked behind the larger man to see Zachary reassuringly nodding his head at him.

Cary then looked down at the hand before him and felt a shudder course through his body as he tentatively reached out and shook it.

“Um…that’s okay, Larry,” he said, struggling to find something that he could say to move beyond the awkward moment, but he found that he didn’t have to when Barrett walked over to them with his hands full of medical supplies.

“Let’s go downstairs and see what we can do about Mr. Bass,” he said, stepping toward the locked basement door at the other end of the room.

“No…I think you need to look at Cary first, then we’ll go downstairs,” Lawrence said as his gaze traveled from Barrett and Zachary to Cary’s dazed expression. “We’ll go downstairs after awhile…once he’s had a chance to clear the cobwebs.”

The others nodded their heads in agreement then watched as Lawrence left the room before turning to each other, their expressions questioning and confused.

“Let’s go ahead and get that ice, Cary,” Barrett said, grasping the younger man by the arm while Zachary left the room to follow after Lawrence.

“They’re both asleep,” Lonnie said, referring to Justin and Chris as he quietly closed their bedroom door behind him and entered into the suite’s living room.

Johnny breathed a quiet sigh of relief and ran a hand slowly over his head as he glanced at the clock hanging on the wall…2:00 a.m.

“I can not even imagine what those three are going through,” he whispered so low that his voice was barely heard by even those seated closest to him. His imagination was running absolutely wild with possible scenarios. Were they hurt…cold…scared? Where were they? Who had taken them? Why hadn’t they heard any kinds of demands?

At the same time, Mike leaned his head back against the couch that he was seated on as his stomach twisted in knots. He was usually responsible for Joey…it had been entirely a fluke that he had not gone with the trio to Michigan. Lonnie had asked him to stay with Chris so that Mitchell could go on to Michigan where members of his family were holding an impromptu reunion the day that they would be arriving. Having spent a lot of time on the road away from his own family, Mike easily traded positions with the newer and younger bodyguard…now he regretted having such a tender heart.

“They’re going to be okay…they’re going to be okay,” Dre said in a quiet, carefully toned voice as his gaze traveled from one forlorn figure to the next in the room. “Just keep the faith that they’ll be okay.”

He was also relatively new, but well liked by the entire crew. His words were always golden…always respected. There were few words said by those in the room in response to Dre’s remarks and it wasn’t fifteen minutes later before the three police officers in the suite encouraged the trio to get some rest. One of the officers explained that, more than likely, it would be early in the morning, well after dawn, before they would hear from the kidnappers.

“You guys really need to get some rest so that when we do get that call, you will be ready and able to help us out. That’s when we’ll need more information from you so that the best plan possible can be made,” the head officer said quietly as he looked at the weary group resting on the couches…Johnny, Dre, Mike, Simon, Lonnie, Mitchell and James. For a split second, he stared in amazement at the five bodyguards…they could all easily outweigh him by almost 50 pounds or even more with a few of them, but that wasn’t what held his attention. What had his total focus was the looks of fear…intense fear and sadness…two emotions that he wasn’t expecting with such large men. While the officer’s gaze continued to be upon the small group, they didn’t seem to notice how attention had been drawn to them and, with very little argument, they headed to the three remaining rooms, but they all knew that there would more than likely be very little rest.

For an unknown amount of time, the dimly lit basement remained quiet and dank…the musty smell of dirt and disuse permeating the thick, damp air. Then quietly…very quietly, the dim silence in the basement was disrupted by a low, painful, almost pitiful moan. Slowly…very slowly, eyelids parted…then squinted…exposing green eyes that revealed confusion…great confusion and pain…his head ached fiercely and his chest was tight. Lance briefly closed then opened his eyes and, as the fog began to slowly clear from his mind, his blurred vision was gradually brought well enough into focus that questions could be raised as his gaze traveled about the shadow filled room.

‘I’m not on the bus…where am I…what happened…JC…Joey…JC…Joey…where are they…what…where…oh, no…James…Mitchell…where are they?’

Having no memory of what may have brought him into this strange situation Lance’s thoughts grew frantic…chaotic…so much so that the headache that he had awakened to suddenly intensified causing him to moan in pain and cautiously bring his hands up to cradle his head in an effort to stop the spinning dizziness that he was experiencing. As he moved his hands, he noticed that not only was there a certain heaviness to them, but also he had heard a tinny, metallic noise when he had moved them.

Gazing in confusion at his hands he grunted in surprise when he saw that his wrists were encased in handcuffs. In a mixture of fear and disbelief he pulled against the bindings, grunting in a mixture of frustration and fear.

“Mmmph.”

‘That didn’t sound right,’ he thought while reaching up to touch his mouth. His eyes opened wide in disbelief when he felt the heavy tape covering his mouth then he quickly glanced down at his ankles and found that tape had also been wrapped about them.

‘How did I miss that?’ he asked himself before a sudden, cold and terrifying chill of realization coursed its way down his spine.

‘Kidnapped…I’ve been kidnapped…’

Fearfully, Lance glanced about him again and he suddenly recognized that he had to be in a basement or storm cellar of some sort due to the beams that protruded from the ceiling overhead and the musty smell that he had somehow missed. He lay quietly for several moments and stared at the shadowed, cobwebbed ceiling above. Moments later, after hearing nothing from above, he heaved a shaky sigh while his thoughts raced wildly inside his head.

‘What’s the last thing I remember…what’s the last thing?’ he asked himself as he briefly closed his eyes in an effort to block out the dull headache that he was experiencing.

‘Okay…I remember getting on the bus…leaving for Michigan…I was working on paperwork at the table…Joey was asleep in his bunk…JC was in the back…I woke up at the table…I moved to the couch then I fell asleep again, I guess…I woke up when the bus lurched…oh, my…I remember a man…he had a gun…’

The sudden memory almost made Lance sick and he took several deep breaths through his nose in an effort to control the rolling situation in his stomach and after several moments, the queasiness disappeared while fear settled deeper into the pit of his stomach. It was also at that moment that he recognized the sick feeling that went along with the beginnings of the irregular tremors that he experienced with his heart condition. With a small moan of frustration, Lance closed his eyes and willed himself to breathe evenly and calmly. If he could just gain control of his emotions, he knew that he could at least attempt to keep the conditioning from incapacitating him…the sluggish beating of his heart and the way it caused his breathing to become shallow and the difficulty his lungs seemed to have in gaining a full breath of air…with his mouth taped shut he knew that the breathing would be an even harsher, more exhausting chore…one that he just might not be able to do. Those thoughts created a tiny stir of panic to rise in his stomach, but he clinched his eyes even tighter in a fierce effort to push his fears aside. He had to remain in control of himself…a cooler head would prevail…he had no idea how or where Joey and JC were and the thoughts of his friends depending upon him helped in pushing down the panic that had been threatening to overtake him while at the same time refocusing his attention away from himself in order to focus totally on finding JC and Joey…he had to.

‘Okay…Joey…Jace…gotta find them,’ Lance thought to himself as he reopened his eyes and allowed his gaze to travel to the walls of the room in search of windows…anything that might clue him in to where he was. Once he found them he saw that it had to be dark outside since he couldn’t actually see out of them…nighttime.

‘How long have we been here? Where is here?’ His thoughts were once again trying to get the better of him, but he once again repeated to himself that cooler heads would prevail several times before he was sure that he could continue his search for the other two.

With a small moan of pain, Lance turned from his back to his left side and slowly began to gaze about him at the portion of the large room that he had not seen behind him. Suddenly, he choked back a small sob of relief at the sight of JC and Joey lying just a few feet away on what looked liked their bunk mattresses…their mouths also covered with tape…their wrists handcuffed before them…their feet bound with tape…JC’s legs also were bound just below the knee…both were either asleep or unconscious. He also noticed that something like bandages not only had been wrapped around Joey’s hands but were also peeking out from under the handcuffs surrounding JC’s wrists. The thought of his friends being injured caused a flutter of alarm to course its way through Lance’s body.

‘What happened to them?’ Lance asked himself as he quickly took in more of Joey’s appearance and then JC’s in an effort to see if either one of them had been hurt any further. Much to his relief, he could see that both were disheveled, dirty and dusty from, what he could only guess was, the basement’s dirt floor, but he could not see any more obvious injuries.

‘Gotta get their attention…gotta get their attention.’

Lance reached up to the tape encircling his head in an effort to find an end to it, but found that with his hands bound like they were, for some reason, it was totally impossible for him to remove the tape from his mouth. And, with the tape layered so thickly, Lance realized that he would have to make a lot of noise in order to get his friends’ attention and that noise might just bring who ever was upstairs down to where they were and he wasn’t ready for that.

With those thoughts in mind, Lance allowed adrenaline and fear…pure fear…to spur him into action. Keeping his eyes locked on JC, who was the closest to him, Lance began to drag himself off his mattress and across the packed dirt floor of the basement. His movements were awkward and slow and he found that it was easiest to drag himself across the floor on his elbows since his bound ankles made his legs almost useless…at the very most he was able to push himself inch by inch across the dirt floor. His elbows smarted painfully with the pressure that he was placing on them…his right one in particular, and he realized that he must have fallen on that elbow when he had been hit over the head on the bus.

At an agonizingly slow pace he continued to move across the floor until he was face to face with JC and the sudden nearness to the older man caused a choked, muffled sob to escape from behind his gag.

In an effort to bring his overwhelming emotions back under control, Lance bowed his head and focused on bringing his breathing back under control before bringing his head back up to once again take in his friend’s haggard appearance.

From a distance, JC had not looked so bad, but being as close as he was now, Lance as able to see dark bruise-like smudges marking his friend’s face. He glanced over JC’s lax body and saw that although his wrists were wrapped in gauze, there seemed to be rope burns peaking out from under them. Lance then glanced from JC’s still figure to take in Joey’s just a few feet away. He seemed to be in a state of deep sleep. Frowning behind his gag, Lance gazed steadily at Joey’s hands and his eyes widened at the sudden realization that there were stains on the bandages.

‘Blood…something happened…blood.’ At that very moment, his heart also decided to begin its sluggish rhythm in earnest causing a wave of dizziness to wash over Lance. Slowly, he lowered himself to the ground and used JC’s mattress to rest his head upon while he concentrated on his breathing.

‘I need to cough it out,’ he thought. His doctor back home had instructed him to cough several times during an episode. Sometimes it would cause the heart to creep back into a regular rhythm, but with his mouth completely covered and the fear of alerting anyone overhead, Lance had no other recourse other than simply lying there and listening to his harsh breathing all the while feeling his heart’s uneven thumps within his chest.

Several minutes passed before Lance felt well enough to sit up and, after several attempts, he heaved a sigh of frustration before putting all his effort into the movements. Seconds later, Lance was sitting back up and able to look back down at JC. The sight of his friend caused the young man to wish very badly that he was awake…he needed JC’s reassurance that things would be okay…that they were going to be okay.

With those thoughts in mind, Lance carefully sat up and scooted even closer to the older man and gently rolled his still body over from his right side onto his back, hoping the movement would elicit some sort of response and he was rewarded with a small, muted groan.

Gently, Lance ran his bound hands through JC’s hair as he mumbled into his gag, hoping the movements and noise would not only help in bringing him around, but would reassure him that he was not alone.

Several minutes later, Lance’s efforts were rewarded and blue eyes blinked heavily a number of times before finally opening all the way revealing first a look of complete confusion, which was quickly replaced by a look of relief.

It was quiet…too quiet in the hotel suite being shared by Chris and Justin along with their manager, Johnny Wright and a small army of body guards, police and FBI. Several hours earlier, Justin had fallen asleep in his bedroom while Chris had been lulled to sleep on a couch in the main room. Later, he had been awakened and led stumbling into Justin’s room and put to bed by one of the bodyguards. Now, the older man was wide-awake, sitting outside the room on the floor of the balcony, his back against the wall, listening to the traffic moving busily below. His fear of heights prevented him from moving any closer to the railing and he contented himself with gazing at the moon overhead as he replayed the nightmare that brought him outside.

The beginning of the dream had been pleasant and fun before turning into what had caused him to sit straight up in bed…his sheets damp with sweat…a scream caught in the back of his throat.

“Time to load up, boys!” a familiar voice called out from the opened door of one of the group’s tour buses.

The group was huddled in a tight circle at least 50 yards from the bus and, at the sound of the driver’s voice, the group parted revealing five smiling faces.

“Sure James!” Justin called out as he leapt onto Joey’s back, causing the other to slightly stumble forward before regaining his balance while JC, Lance, and Chris stepped to the side, laughing at the sight.

“Oof…geez, Justin,” Joey said in a voice laced with laughter. “I should be the one getting a piggy-back!”

Joey’s cries were ignored by the youngest member of the group, who simply wrapped his long, lanky arms around the others chest before pointing toward the bus and shouting in his best, worst English accent, “to the bus, Joseph!”

Chris smiled at the scene and shook his head as he watched Joey grab hold of Justin’s legs before running at a full sprint toward the bus, the burden on his back causing him little difficulty, while Justin began screeching in laughter and mock fear.

“Slow down! Slow down!”

Chris’s smile grew even larger at the scene and he turned to speak to JC and Lance who were now in their own deep conversation over a piece of paper that was in JC’s hands. Taking a second glance at the page, Chris realized that JC was holding a piece of sheet music and, out of curiosity, he stepped closer to the pair to hear what they were talking about.

“New song, C?” Chris asked as he moved behind Lance so that he could read over his shoulder.

“Yeah…this is something that I thought Lance might want to play around with,” JC replied as he allowed Chris an even closer look.

“I think this looks good,” Chris said as he glanced at the dark notes that seemed to bounce all over the page.

“I don’t know…I mean…I’m not too sure about…” Lance began but his voice was drowned out when Joey and Justin’s playful shouts suddenly turned into screams full of terror. Chris’s gaze flew up from the sheet music and he was horrified to see several figures dressed in black standing outside the bus. One of the men grabbed Justin around the waist and jerked him off Joey’s back before shoving him forcibly to the ground while a second figure grabbed Joey by the shirt collar and propelled him face first into the bus.

Chris immediately ran towards Joey who had slumped to the ground…his eyes closed…his head bleeding. One of the figures stepped into Chris’s path and immediately his forward movement ceased. It was as if an invisible barrier had been lifted in front of him.

In horror, Chris watched as Joey was pulled up from the ground and carried onto the bus, while Justin was left lying in a shaking heap on the ground. .

“Joey! Joey!” he screamed while pushing frantically at the barrier.

At the same time, Lance and JC were trying their best to back away from two figures that were walking slowly toward them, guns pointed at their chests.

“No!! No!!” he shouted as he watched Lance being grabbed by the hair…his deep voice screaming out in a mixture of pain and fear and he pulled against the strong hands entangled in his hair. Suddenly, the figure raised an arm and forcibly brought it down, hitting the writhing man in the face. Immediately, Lance became limp, his body pliant and easy to carry up the stairs of the bus.

As Lance’s limp figure disappeared onto the bus, Chris turned his attention to the remaining member of the group being attacked. Vainly, JC was struggling against a dark figure who had his arm snaked around his throat. JC, no longer able to scream without the ability to draw in a breath gazed at Chris…his eyes pleading for help as he continued to struggle weakly against the arms holding him. Just as JC was pulled onto the bus, it pulled away and the barrier holding him in place and Justin down on the ground lifted causing Chris to stumble to his knees before rising up with Justin at his side to race after the rapidly departing vehicle.

In frustration, Chris clinched his fists and wiped them stubbornly against his eyes in a feeble effort to prevent the tears that were threatening to fall from doing so, but he found the task impossible. Shaking his head he opened his eyes and gazed up at the night sky above. He was unable to see very many stars due to not only the clouds passing overhead, but also because of the bright lights from the street below and the surrounding buildings.

“Lord…where are they? Why did this happen to them? Dear God…protect them…please,” he quietly pleaded as his tears began to fall silently as he bowed his head forward in continued silent prayer. Minutes later, he raised his head and looked back up at the night sky, lost in his thoughts. Just as his emotions were about to overwhelm him, the sliding of the balcony door behind him distracted him from those forlorn thoughts.

“Chris?” Justin quietly called out in a voice that was thick with sleep and slightly slurred from the medications that he was being forced to take.

“Yeah?”

“Umm…”

“Come here, Baby J,” Chris said, turning slightly to look over his right shoulder at Justin’s shadowed figure standing several feet away while patting the surface of the balcony beside him. Justin padded over barefooted, wearing his sweats and a t-shirt…his hands entangled in the hem of the shirt.

“Sit down, J,” Chris said gently as he motioned to the younger man. Silently, Justin leaned against the wall and slid down until he was seated at the older man’s side.

“You were asleep when I left you,” Chris quietly commented when Justin did not begin speaking.

“I couldn’t sleep…bad dreams,” Justin said as he stared ahead all the while continuing to tug at the bottom of his shirt with one hand while running the other over his head then his face. “I…um…I dreamed that I had…I had been taken instead.”

“J…” Chris began, but the younger man interrupted him.

“I was taken…and…I tried to get away…you know…but I couldn’t…I tried but they were too big, Chris.”

“It was a dream, Justin…it was just a dream. I bet the meds are making you dream like that.”

“I wonder where they are…are they okay…are they scared?”

Justin’s voice sounded so small…so lost and Chris was compelled to make the situation somewhat better, if that were at all possible and he took a deep breath to steady his voice…to make it sound stronger than he was feeling.

“I don’t know…I’m sure they’re okay…they’re together…that’s something to keep in mind. If I know any of them, Joey will protect JC and Lance…Lance will keep his head and negotiate his way out of the situation and JC…he’ll write a song about it when its all over,” Chris stated with a small, wan smile.

Justin chuckled half-heartedly at Chris’s attempt at humor but soon the chuckles turned into choked sobs full of fear and anger. Chris raised his arm, allowing Justin to lean against the slighter man. Silent tears traced their way down Chris’s cheeks as he ran his hand over Justin’s curls.

“They’ve got to be okay…they’ve just got to be,” he whispered. “Please…God…keep them safe…please.”

72 Hours, Ch. 6

Lance grunted in frustration and closed his eyes in an effort to dam up the tears that were threatening to fall. It had been at least fifteen…maybe twenty minutes since he had awakened to find himself, along with Joey and JC, tied up in, what looked like, a basement or storm cellar. Once he had made some sort of sense of what may have happened to them, he had been able to awaken JC, who was now lying on his side, watching the efforts being made in bringing Joey to consciousness from a distance, quietly grunting into his gag in what could be described as sounds of encouragement…at least that was what Lance was hoping. The pair had decided through messages written crudely in the loosely packed dirt on the floor that it would probably be better if they didn’t remove their gags…at least for now…not until they had a better sense of what their kidnappers were like. They both realized that they were taking a chance in moving off their mattresses and Lance had made the decision to be the one to go to Joey since he was not as thoroughly bound as JC, who had a layer of tape wrapped about his legs just below the knee. Although his movements had been clumsy, JC probably would have found it next to impossible to move the short distance between his mattress and Joeys…especially if those who were holding him decided to pay them an unexpected visit.

Lance stopped long enough from his ministrations on Joey and turned to look back over his shoulder at JC, trying to gauge whether or not he needed help, but his blue eyes told a different story…they were opened wide and questioning. Lance shrugged his shoulders the best that he could then nodded and quietly sighed, conveying the message that he was getting no where in trying to awaken Joey. JC returned the nod, indicating that he understood the younger man’s frustrations and watched as Lance once again turned back around before bending over Joey’s still form.

After a few more minutes of trying to awaken Joey, Lance was just about ready to give up…his lack of success was beginning to scare him, making him realize how close he could be to panicking. Added to that fear for Joey’s well-being was the fact that he was still having heart palpitations and the intensity of the irregular beats was not letting up, making it difficult to catch his breath, much less even take in a full, deep breath…the thick tape gag covering his mouth wasn’t helping in that department either. Although his hands were handcuffed before him, he had, for some reason, found it next to impossible to try to undo the gag, so he was stuck until he made it back over to JC again. He would just have to take the chance that the kidnappers would be angry, but he’d rather face that than possibly suffocating. With those problems weighing in on him, he was finding it increasingly difficult to remain focused on the task at hand…waking Joey up.

‘Joey…Joey…come on…wake up,’ Lance inwardly encouraged the inert figure as he gently patted his friend’s face with shaking, sweaty hands. Joey remained unmoving beneath Lance’s hands and the young man bent closer to the still face below him and gently lifted one of Joey’s eyelids like he had seen their doctor, Kenneth Shannon do on several occasions. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking for, but at least he felt as if he was doing something.

‘Your pupils are huge, Joe,’ he thought in amazement, as he gazed into the unseeing, honey brown eyes before him…the dim light in the room making it slightly difficult to actually distinguish the dark pupils from the brown color of his friend’s eyes…just a thin rim of color could be seen.

Unknown to Lance, the overriding reason behind his friend’s unconsciousness was that the kidnappers had injected the older man with medications that heavily sedated him and as a result, his pupils were especially large…practically taking over the dark color of his eyes.

‘Maybe they hit him over the head? Maybe that’s why he won’t wake up and his eyes look like that?’ Lance reasoned with himself after raising his body into a rather awkward position. He seemed to remember a time that Justin had fallen and hit his head during the previous summer. After being very briefly unconscious, his eyes had seemed out of focus once he had awakened and his pupils had been abnormally large…so much so that there had been hardly any bright blue color to his eyes.

With those thoughts in mind, Lance formed a plan and cautiously began to put it into action.

‘Okay, Lance…gotta look for bumps and bruises on his head…be careful…don’t want to hurt him any more than he might be hurt…okay…careful…careful,’ he chanted in his mind while he gently began probing Joey’s head with shaking hands while at the same time cursing the fact that with his hands cuffed, his movements were rather limited and difficult, causing him to fear even more hurting his friend.

After what seemed an eternity, but was actually just a few seconds, Lance found on the back Joey’s head a large lump and hair that seemed crusty and matted with what was probably blood. He swallowed deeply as he fought down the shudders of fear coursing through his frame at the idea of Joey having been hit over the head hard enough to break skin and make him bleed. He knew that he had been similarly hit…his head pulsating in time with his erratic heartbeat was a reminder of that fact. For a few seconds, he lowered his head and attempted to take somewhat deep breaths and, for a moment, his headache’s intensity diminished temporarily…enough so that he could once again concentrate on Joey. He wanted to turn the older man from his side to his chest so that he could get a good look at the wound, but with his hands being awkwardly handcuffed and his ankles bound, he knew that there was no way that he could possibly turn the larger man without the chance of further hurting him if there were hidden injuries or, even worse, possibly alerting those people moving above them if Joey happened to suddenly awaken in pain. For now, he had to work with the position that Joey was in and he once again tentatively ran his hands over the back of the older man’s head.

‘Okay…a lump…humph…more like a goose egg…geez…why would anyone do that to you, Joe?’ he asked, the voice inside his head sounding full of disdain and anger toward anyone who would hurt his friends.

‘If I have the chance to get my hands on them…I’ll…I’ll…no…no…I gotta keep thinking straight…can’t let go of my control…can’t let go…keep it together, Lance…keep it together,’ he told himself as he bowed his head once again and struggled to take in deep breaths as he felt his heart take a few painful lurches within his chest. His swirling thoughts were tossing…confused…upset, but he realized that remaining calm was the answer…cooler heads would prevail…just stay in control of his emotions and, hopefully that would also help in keeping the problem with his heart from getting the best of him.

‘That’s all you have to do…stay in control.’ He seemed to be the only one fully capable of that task for the moment what with Joey not waking up and he and JC bound. He kept one hand on Joey’s shoulder as his gaze traveled to the windows overhead. If only they could get through them…surely they would be able to find someone to help them, but those thoughts vanished when he saw just how small they actually were…no larger than a cinder block…maybe even smaller than that. There would be no way that anyone one of them, not even JC, could even possibly fit through one if they even managed to reach it since the windows were at least seven feet or more off the ground and there didn’t seem to be anything nearby tall enough that they could use to stand on. Lance’s gaze then returned to Joey and remained there for several seconds while he gently ran a hand over his friend’s head.

‘What do I do?’ he asked himself as his gaze left Joey and traveled back to the figure, which was lying behind him.

JC opened his eyes as he sensed Lance looking at him and at that very moment more footsteps sounded from above. JC’s eyes opened wider in apparent alarm as his gaze bounced back and forth between the ceiling above and Lance.

‘How many are there?’ Lance asked himself before gazing intently at JC and holding up one finger then looking up to the ceiling, pointed and then looked back at JC, again.

JC looked at him in slight confusion, motioning with his hands of his uncertainty about the unspoken message and it took Lance holding two then three fingers while looking up at the ceiling before the other realized what was being asked. He held up three then four fingers while shrugging his shoulders, letting Lance know that he was not certain of the amount and the younger man lowered his hand to the floor at the information…three or four…they were pretty much outnumbered. Lance nodded his head at JC and tried to smile behind the gag, knowing that his eyes would give the message that they were going to be okay, but he was afraid that the smile would not even reach his eyes. He was too tired…too scared…too discouraged.

JC nodded his head at Lance and tried to return the smile, but he knew that he was failing just as miserably as Lance had. He pushed himself even further up into a semi-seated position with his leaning heavily on his hands before closing his eyes for just a moment…he was so tired…scared…he couldn’t decide which emotion was the overriding one…they were both strong. A small sound caused him to open his eyes quickly. He quickly looked up to the ceiling and didn’t hear anything else for a brief moment. Suddenly, there were more of what sounded like footsteps overhead and he gave Lance a wild, frightened looks which was returned in much the same manner. Without lifting his hands from the ground, JC frantically motioned for the younger man to come back to his mattress then watched Lance as he slowly pulled himself across the floor in his direction.

‘Come on, Lance…come on…you can make it,’ JC silently encouraged the struggling figure, all the while keeping an eye on the door at the top of the stairs, across the room.

* * * * * * * *

Breakfast was quiet and strained…the silence in the hotel suite so strong that it threatened to slowly crush the very breath out of Chris. Never before had he felt such despair in his life and he was unsure as to how to lift himself out of the quagmire. A sniffle caused him to look at the figure seated across from him at the table in the kitchenette. Justin didn’t seem to notice that he had the older man’s attention…he seemed lost in thought as he pushed his fork into a piece of scrambled egg then brought it up to his mouth. He closed his mouth over the fork and slowly chewed as he pushed about what was on his plate with his fork. No one really had appetites for the fare set before them, but according to doctor’s instructions, the young man had to eat something in order to take more of his medications. The doctor had visited earlier and had decided that Justin was in need of more rest.

Chris replayed the ensuing argument in his mind as he absent-mindedly mimicked Justin’s movements.

“I want you to take all of the medications, Mr. Timberlake,” the doctor said as he bent over his medical bag, closing it before straightening.

“No…no…Johnny,” Justin said, his voice full of desperation. “If I take that stuff, I won’t know what’s…” he began but a harsh look that flitted momentarily across the manager’s face told him that he was coming close to saying too much. The doctor had no idea what the underlying cause to his collapse was yesterday and it needed to remain that way. If the press happened to get their hands on what was going on, there would be no telling what the kidnappers might do.

“Justin…just do what the doctor says and we’ll talk later,” Johnny said, his tone strained while his expression did not change. He understood what Justin was afraid of…not wanting to miss the call…the news that the others were okay. But the doctor finding it necessary for the young man to rest in order to avoid another collapse was his main concern for the moment. He didn’t want what had happened yesterday to play itself out again. That had been too frightening…almost too much to bear.

“But…Johnny,” Justin tried to argue one last time, but he sat back against the couch cushions then lowered his gaze when he recognized the look that the manager was giving him while Chris sat down beside him and patted his knee.

In the meantime, two of the group’s bodyguards escorted the doctor out of the hotel suite that had been rented down the hall since no one wanted the man to see the suite, which was crawling with police and the FBI. The at least five or more men were prepared to receive the long awaited ransom demands or any kind of communications from either Joey, JC, or Lance or from the kidnappers…anything. So far, the wait had not been that long, according to the professionals, but to those friends and family, the wait was agonizing and seemingly unending.

* * * * * * * *

For Lance, crawling from Joey’s mattress back to JC’s was difficult and draining…his head was beginning to ache terribly and his heart’s irregular beats were beginning to get the best of him. Although the mattresses were set about 10 to 15 feet apart in a triangular pattern of sorts, the gaps between them could have been twice, even three times the distance as far as he was concerned.

JC watched Lance’s agonizingly slow progress across the floor with growing concern. He knew that Lance had to be feeling the effects of having been hit over the head, but there seemed to be something more…something…but what? His features were pale…almost gray and his eyes reminded him of the times that Lance had had…

‘Oh, no,’ JC thought as he suddenly realized what the problem might be…Lance’s heart. His level of concern escalated as he continued to watch the other struggle to pull his bound form across the floor.

Feeling JC’s eyes on him, Lance stopped his movement and struggled to take in a deep breath through his nose knowing that his lungs were screaming for air as his heart continued to sluggishly beat. He bowed his head and coughed as quietly as possible into his gag, hoping to jolt his heart back into a regular rhythm, but the tape covering his mouth hindered the efforts.

The cough confirmed what JC had thought the problem to be and he recognized that it was more than likely worse than he suspected and fear raced through his body as he realized that there was nothing that either one of them could do. Well…yes…he could do something once Lance could make it back to his mattress…if he made it back to his mattress.

‘Just a few more feet…just a few more,’ Lance told himself as he continued to move across the floor. ‘Almost there…almost there…gotta get this gag off…gotta get to JC…gotta…gotta,’ he chanted as the periphery of his vision slowly began to gray.

‘Stay awake…gotta…gotta stay awake…get to JC…get to…JC.’

In the meantime, JC began to scoot toward the slowing figure, moaning into his gag…hoping that the sounds would keep Lance coming…they would send some form of encouragement his way. In alarm, JC began to move quicker as Lance suddenly stopped moving and fell limply to the ground. A thin shiver of panic raced through JC when he realized that he could no longer hear Lance’s harsh breaths. As quickly as possible, he made it to Lance’s side and he turned the blonde’s head to the side in with shaking hands in an effort to find the end of the tape that was wrapped about his head.

Seconds later, he found the end and it didn’t take him long at all to pull the sticky mess from around Lance’s head. The last painful tug that it took to remove it from about Lance’s head seemed to bring the younger man to life and he came to with a loud, gasping breath for air.

In relief, JC bowed his head against Lance’s shoulder and quietly sobbed.

“Okay…let’s go downstairs and check on them,” Barrett said as he gathered a few supplies together and handed them to Cary. Lawrence and Zachary were still upstairs in their bedrooms, asleep after having stayed up much of the previous night…Zachary, drinking heavily and Lawrence, plotting the next step in their plans to take the remaining two members of Nsync.

The pair walked through the basement door and began walking down the stair, fully expecting to see the three young men still asleep on their mattresses, but the sight that greeted them was far from that.

In the middle of the floor lay a still figure with another bent over it, shaking it frantically while moaning into his gag.

Barrett immediately took the remaining stairs two and three at a time and dumped his armload of supplies on the ground with Cary right on his heels doing the same.

JC didn’t seem to notice that anyone had entered the room and he barely recognized the fact that two of the kidnappers were now bent over Lance after having pushed him to the side.

“Pull off his gag, now,” Cary ordered Barrett, barely taking enough time to point at JC, who was cowering from the approaching figure. “Ask him what happened.”

In two strides, Barrett was at JC’s side and unceremoniously he grabbed the brunette’s head and pushed it down to the ground so that he could grab the end of the tape, which was at the back of his head. Within seconds, JC let out a short scream as the tape was ripped away from his face, pulling not only skin but also hair away with it.

“Is he okay? Is he?” were the first words out of JC’s mouth as he struggled frantically against Barrett to reach Lance’s side.

Cary did not readily answer the questions since he was busy making sure Lance’s airway was unobstructed. He had the blond lying on his side, his mouth opened so that he could run two fingers inside it. After finding his airway to be clear and his breathing to be stronger than when he had first reached Lance’s limp figure, Cary turned the young man from his side to his back.

“Please…is he breathing okay?” JC asked, his voice choked with emotion as he continued to watch what was going on before him, but he continued to remain ignored and his level of panic and anxiety reached new levels.

“Barrett…help me out here,” Cary said as he put his hands under Lance’s shoulders while the other man lifted his legs. The pair lifted Lance’s lifeless form and carried him the short distance to his mattress then carefully placed him on it.

“Please…please…is he okay…tell…me,” JC quietly pleaded from his position on the floor.

“Yes…he is,” Cary said, relief evident in his voice as he sat back on his heels then looked at JC as he ran a shaking hand through his hair. “It looks like he just fainted…that’s all. His heartbeat is a little irregular and…”

“He couldn’t breathe…he couldn’t and that’s why he passed out,” JC said, his voice beginning to reveal the depth of his fear and anger. “He’s supposed to be able to cough it out when his heart acts up, but he couldn’t because of that tape…he hadn’t taken his pills since yesterday...he was scared…he…he…”

JC’s voice choked and he bowed his head when he felt tears beginning to well up. He didn’t want to give these two men the satisfaction of seeing just how frightened he had been and it was at that point that the feeling anger began to surge through him…anger and intense fear. He had nearly lost Lance and he had been powerless…helpless to do anything to help his friend. He brought his head back up and he gazed intently at the two men still kneeling before Lance…the sight brought an even deeper sense of anger. Before he even thought about the consequences of what he was about to do, he spoke in a voice that would let the pair know that his words were not any empty threat…far from it.

“If something happens to Lance…or Joey, so help me…you won’t be able to hide…anywhere.”

“Those are strong words coming from someone in your position, Mr. Chasez,” a voice said from overhead before Cary and Barrett had the chance to reply and all eyes looked up to see Lawrence and Zachary descending the stairs.

“See what can happen when you don’t follow instructions, Mr. Chasez? Your friends begin to suffer.”

JC shook his head no.

“No…he has a heart condition and this situation aggravated it,” JC protested, lashing out in anger at the two newcomers, but his bravado did not last long when Lawrence nodded his head at Zachary, who then bent over Joey’s still form and grabbed a handful of the young man’s hair…a small moan escaped from behind Joey’s gag, although he remained unconscious.

“Remember what we warned you about, Mr. Chasez…you and your mouth?”

“No…no…don’t,” JC said as the anger in his voice was replaced with a pleading quality as he watched the man holding Joey by the hair pull a knife out of his pant pocket. He realized his mistake too late and now Joey might possibly suffer another injury all due to him.

Italics denote phone conversation.

72 Hours, Ch. 7

Loud voices in the next room brought Chris out of his deep slumber. Glancing about Justin’s large bedroom in confusion he lifted his left arm and squinted at his watch…”geez…2:00. Man…I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

Carefully, he turned from his back to his right side and found that Justin was still deeply asleep under the bed’s covers. A few hours ago the hotel physician had left their suite after stating that the young man needed to continue taking the medications that had been prescribed to him the day before as a result of his fainting episode. After much protesting, Justin finally gave in after Chris promised that he would do his very best to awaken him if there was word from the kidnappers. Both knew that the tiny blue pill was going to put him completely out and he would be difficult to awaken, but just knowing that Chris would make that effort seemed to give Justin some form of comfort and he grudgingly took the pill and offered glass of water. Although Justin had seemingly given in, Chris could still read the uncertainty that was radiating from his friend so in an effort to further help the situation, he even offered to lie down on the other side of Justin’s bed with the intent of just staying there long enough to watch the younger man fall asleep, but apparently he was still feeling the effects of having taken some medication himself last night and within minutes he was also asleep.

The loud voices coming from the other side of the door caused Chris to blink his eyes blearily in further confusion.

“What is going on out there?” he whispered to himself, pushing away the light blanket that he didn’t remember being there before, knowing that either Lonnie or Mike must have come in and checked on them at one point during his long nap.

He turned once more to Justin and gently reached over and further pulled the covers spread over his still form before slowly scooting off of the bed. He took the few steps to the door slowly, his mind still sleep-fogged and opened it to see Lonnie and Mike along with Johnny and the many investigators that had been camped out in their suite for the last 24 hours standing around the small kitchenette table.

As soon as Lonnie saw Chris standing in the bedroom doorway, he immediately called out his name, alerting the others of the young man’s presence.

“Why don’t you sit down, Christopher,” the bodyguard said as he watched the figure move slowly across the room. “You look pretty tired.”

“No…I don’t want to, Lon…not right now,” Chris replied uneasily, passing the bodyguard as he walked over to the small group to listen to their conversation.

“Mr. Kirkpatrick…” one of the investigators said, acknowledging his presence and effectively putting an end to what they had been talking about.

“Don’t stop on account of me, gentlemen,” Chris said as he stood before them, glancing at the group warily. His stiff posture became still as he crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head to the side and intently gazed at the faces before him. He had the distinct suspicion that something was being kept from him and he didn’t like that…not one bit.

“Chris…we’re not…” Johnny began but immediately stopped when he realized that the young man could read him like a book and would know if he wasn’t being straight with him.

“Johnny…don’t even go there,” Chris replied, his tone even, but slightly dangerous as he raised one hand in the manager’s direction…giving the older man an unspoken warning before he continued speaking. “Why don’t you tell me what you were discussing before I walked in the room?”

Chris watched, his mouth becoming a thin, tense line as Johnny glanced at the investigators and there was uncomfortable silence for several seconds before the manager got a non-verbal go ahead from one of the others standing nearby.

“Why don’t you sit down, Chris,” Johnny said as he took a step in his direction, reaching out to gently grasp Chris’s shoulder with one hand while pulling out one of the table’s chairs with the other.

“What’s going on, Johnny?” Chris asked, narrowing his eyes at the manager as he slowly sat down in the offered seat. He could tell that something had happened, but he was slow in coming up with any ideas…that is, until he saw a look of sadness cross the older man’s face.

“What…no…wait a minute, Johnny…did you hear something? Did they call? Did they?”

Johnny remained silent and still for several seconds while Chris looked as if he was ready to spring from his chair…his face a mixed mask of confusion, anger and fear. Lonnie placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze letting his young charge know that he needed to stay seated.

Chris remained in his seat, tense for the several seconds that it took for Johnny to finally give his answer to the frantic questions. Then finally, instead of speaking, he simply nodded his head then he cleared his throat. After a taking a deep, shuddered breath he began talking.

“About an hour ago…we got a call…the demands,” the manager said quietly without looking in Chris’s direction. He looked down at his hands as he continued to since he could not look at the blank expression on Chris’s face. The phone call was bad enough but he knew that the next few minutes would more than likely be even worse. Shakily, Johnny reached over and pushed a button on a tape player and a stranger’s harsh voice filled the room.

Chris’s mind was blank as he caught snippets of what was being said…his mind, for some reason was not allowing him to fully comprehend the words floating about the room…not until he heard a familiar voice.

“Jjj…Johnny? Ppp...please…please…listen to the ddd…demands.” Lance’s voice was uncharacteristically high, thin and thready. His southern accent was coming out heavily as fear laced his voice.

“Lance?” Chris gasped, his gaze passing swiftly from the tape player to Johnny, who simply closed his eyes and nodded.

“Are you okay, Lance? Are JC and Joey okay?” Johnny’s voice cut in, interrupting Lance’s shaky speech. Chris quickly stared at the tape player. ‘That’s Lance…that’s Lance,’ his mind screamed at him as he listened to what had been recorded.

“Yes…yes…we’re doing okay. Umm…we’re not too bad off…we’ll be okay. Ow!”

Scuffling could be heard in the background…scuffling and shouts along with moaning.

“Please…please don’t. Don’t hurt them…please! I’ll do anything…just don’t!”

Lance’s pleading voice in the background along with muttering threats that were hard to understand were the only sounds heard for several seconds. Silent tears slowly tracked their way down Chris’s blank features. He had no idea that he was crying…for the moment his whole world was caught up in the sounds that were emanating from the tape player on the table. What seemed like an eternity, but was actually only a few seconds, those listening to the tape could tell that Lance was once again back on the phone due to his deep, unsteady breaths.

“Read what I gave you…read it!” a voice shouted.

“Okay…okay. Umm…Johnny…you have 72 hours from now before you must wire exactly 3 million dollars to each of these accounts.”

Chris could tell that Lance was reading from something…his voice was flat and nervous. He listened numbly as Lance slowly named off numbers realizing that they were to accounts.

One of the investigators shook his head. “You could tell that Mr. Bass was trying to stall for time…he must have known that we would try to track their location, but we couldn’t. He was on his cell.”

Chris stared dumbly at the investigator as Lance’s voice droned on.

“The remaining 3 million will be delivered to a location that will be given later.”

There was a sudden change in Lance’s tone, as if he was realizing what he would be reading next and the sound of him taking a hard swallow alerted Chris to the fact that he wasn’t going to like what was coming next.

“Johnny? They want…no…no…I can’t read this…it’s…no…not...”

“Read it…now!”

“Ow…no…ow! But…no…not them too,” Lance’s voice cried out…the pain that he had to have been experiencing was evident.

“Do it, Zach.” Heavy steps could be heard and the sound of possibly something heavy being dragged across a surface…along with frantic, muted moans that Chris thought to sound like they were coming from JC or Joey.

“No…no…I’ll read it…I swear!” Lance’s frantic pleadings caused Chris to take in a sharp breath and he leaned closer to the table in a futile effort to put to an end what was happening to his friends. In the background Johnny’s harsh breathing could be heard…breaths that were turning into quiet sobs. Chris turned his gaze to Johnny and saw that the older man was hunched over, his head in his hands with shoulders shaking.

“Please…no…Joey! Joey! No! No! Mmmph! Mmmph!”

Chris glanced questioningly at one of the investigators.

“Mr. Bass’s mouth was covered,” the older man said quietly as he watched Chris’s pain filled gaze drift slowly back to the tape player.

Lance’s now muted screams of fright were not loud enough to override the sudden screams of pain in the background…screams that sounded distinctly like Joey. As those screams took over, Chris’s tears began to cascade in earnest down his still blank face all the while listening to the tape.

“What’s going on, Lance?” Johnny’s voice sounded frantic. “Lance! Lance!”

Harsh breathing, sobs and the sounds of struggling continued to fill the room, as did Johnny’s frantic voice. Chris sat stiffly in his chair, unable to comprehend what could be possibly be causing his younger brothers to scream so loudly…not wanting to comprehend. Suddenly, Lance’s scared, unsteady voice could be heard clearly again.

“Ppp…please, mister…please…okay…okay,” Lance cried out. “Just don’t hurt him anymore…not Joe…I’ll read it, mister…please.”

“Lance…Lance?” Johnny’s voice cried out again but his pleas went seemingly unheard.

“Read it now!”

“Jjj…Johnny…they want Chr…Chris…they want Chris and Jus…Justin to bring the rest…they want them to bring the rest of the money to a location that…that will be given later.”

“Lance…are you okay? Joey…Jace…are they?”

“You’ll be hearing from us in 24 hours,” a different voice said before the sound of the dial tone filled the room.

During the entire time that he listened to the last of Lance’s terror filled voice and Johnny’s unanswered pleas, Chris felt as if he couldn’t breathe for fear that if he did, all of this would be real…too real. Just as he realized that Lance’s voice had been replaced by the dial tone, Chris instantly felt as if his chair had simply slipped out from under him. He paled as he gripped the edge of the table before him in an effort to bring himself under control…so many emotions were swirling about him. He felt as if he was in a tidal pool being pulled down into its depth. The room became fuzzy…the faces closing in on him vague and their voices garbled…the air too thick and heavy to breathe in…and slowly Chris’s vision began to gray at the edges.

“Chris…Chris…come on…Chris,” Mike said as he knelt down before him. Although his awareness was rapidly dwindling, Chris was able to distinguish his form and voice from all others and for a millisecond was able to bring his senses into focus before the floor suddenly tilted.

“Whoa…grab him,” a voice called out as the gray at the periphery of his vision slowly turned to black. He dimly felt hands grasping him by the shoulders, easing him back in his chair then he felt nothing.

One of the investigators immediately rushed over to the kitchen sink and grabbed a towel while at the same time turning on the faucet. He thrust the towel under the cold stream of water then turned off the water and wrung out the towel.

“Lonnie…can you?” Johnny whispered as he fought to keep Chris’s limp form upright in his chair as the investigator approached with the wet cloth.

“I’ll get the hotel physician up here,” Mike said as he briskly walked over to one of the phones in the room and dialed downstairs.

At the same time, with a short nod, Lonnie walked over to the other side of Chris’s chair then stooped over the still, slumped form.

“Come on, Crazy…let’s get you somewhere more comfortable,” Lonnie said quietly as he gently lifted Chris up from the chair, being mindful to cradle his head against his shoulder, then walked over to the nearest couch. He carefully laid the limp form on the couch then turned him over so that he was face down before propping his bare feet up with several pillows that Dre placed at the end of the couch. The investigator with the damp cloth handed it over and Lonnie proceeded to kneel down on the floor before Chris then gently began to wipe his pale face while speaking in quiet tones to the still figure.

A knock on the door alerted the group of the hotel doctor’s arrival and, thankful it was not the same physician who had scene Justin the day before.

The group thinned out…the investigators moved outside into the hallway while Johnny and the bodyguards continued to hover around the couch.

“Johnny…” Mike said drawing the manager away from Chris, hopefully preventing any possibility that the hotel’s doctor could hear his words.

“I want to make a suggestion.”

Johnny nodded his head and briefly turned his attention to the bodyguard. “Okay…I’m listening.”

“I think you need to consider getting their physician up here. We’re taking too many chances of this leaking out every time someone new comes up here.”

“Dr. Shannon? Do you think he’d come up here?” Johnny asked incredulously. He had no idea if the physician would be able to drop everything to fly to New York, but there was only one way to find out.

“Get me a phone, Mike.”

The bodyguard nodded his head and pulled his own phone out of his pocket then handed it over.

“He’s number 10 on the menu,” he said before walking back over to the couch while Johnny walked to a far corner of the room to make the phone call.

* * * * * * * * * *

Lance lay shivering on his mattress, staring uncomprehendingly at his friends who were lying on their own mattresses. The memory of Joey’s screams, JC’s fearful moans filled him with anguish and Johnny’s uncertain cries over the phone were still so fresh in his shattered mind that Lance’s shivering became even more pronounced.

Screams of terror and pain echoed in his mind and Lance rolled into an awkward position, somewhat hindered by the ropes holding his arms behind him and the rope wound about his ankles and tied to one of the many support poles scattered throughout the basement. With a small sigh he closed his eyes in an effort to fall asleep…to escape in the only way possible.

Joey’s mind was still hazy from what had happened sometime ago and he found a small amount of comfort in that fact. His body still hummed with a dull pain from the fists that had pummeled him and he shifted slightly in an effort to find a more comfortable position to lie in but he found it impossible…there were too many aches and pains…new cuts and bruises that simply would not allow that. A small movement from above caused Joey to glance fearfully at the ceiling.

‘Please…please…not again,’ he pleaded in his mind before hearing sniffling from a few feet away…Lance…JC. Joey shifted on his mattresses, turning from his left side to his chest with a small groan. He closed his eyes and took several seconds to bring his breathing back into control before looking over at JC to see that he was asleep.

‘Good,’ he thought and briefly he shut his eyes as weariness descended upon him and he turned so that he was facing Lance’s mattress. When he next opened his eyes, Joey frowned behind his thick gag at Lance’s quivering, cowering form and he wanted desperately to get to his friend, but that wasn’t going to be possible. In frustration, Joey looked down at his bound ankles and pulled futilely at the rope looped around the pole behind him, keeping him confined to his mattress then he looked back at Lance.

“Mmmph! Mmmph!”

Slowly Lance’s eyes opened and he brought his gaze over to Joey who continued to make noises in order to get his attention.

“Mmm,” Lance moaned as he nodded his head at Joey, letting him know that he had his attention.

Intently, Joey stared at Lance in an effort to let him know that he was okay and that everything would be okay. He watched Lance bow his head then, a few moments later, lift his head and stare back at him. It was then that Joey knew that Lance was with him…that he was just as determined as he to make it.

* * * * * * * *

“Hello. This is Dr. Shannon’s office…Liz speaking,” a cheerful voice said, filling Johnny’s ear.

“Hi, Liz. I’d like to speak with Dr. Shannon. My name is John Wright.”

“Yes, Mr. Wright. If you will give me a moment, I’ll see if Dr. Shannon is with a patient.”

“Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”

“Just let me put you on hold.”

Johnny sat down on a nearby chair and watched the activity going on across the room. The hotel’s physician was seated at Chris’s side on the couch and Johnny felt relief flood through him at the sight of Chris’s legs slightly moving.

“Mr. Wright?”

“Oh…sorry. Dr. Shannon…it’s good to be speaking to you.” Johnny winced at how badly his voice shook.

Dr. Shannon picked up on it immediately.

“I can tell by the sound of your voice that this isn’t a pleasure call,” Dr. Shannon said as he sat down in his chair at his desk and quickly grabbed a pen and pad of paper.

“Well…we’ve had some things happen here that…that are very difficult to explain over the phone.” Johnny ran his hand over his head and shifted in his chair.

“Where are you, Mr. Wright and when do you need me there?” the doctor asked, tapping his pen on his desk. By the tone of the manager’s voice he knew that something had happened to one of the boys.

“We’re in New York…can you be here by this evening?” Johnny said in a voice full of relief.

“Yes…I’ll be there. Do I need to rent a car?”

“No…just let me know your flight arrangements and I’ll send Mike out to get you.”

“How are they?” Dr. Shannon asked. When Johnny hesitated he cut in once again. “I need to know so I can plan on what to bring with me.”

Johnny stood up and made his way to the suite’s door.

“Let me go out into the hallway.” Johnny opened the door and quickly walked out into the hall. “What I’m going to tell you needs to stay between the two of us, doctor.”

“I understand.” Dr. Shannon sat up in his chair when one of his secretaries passed by his office door and he quickly snapped his fingers, gaining her attention.

“Yes, sir?” she whispered as she watched the doctor quickly write down some information on a slip of paper before handing it to her while at the same time mouthing that it was urgent.

The secretary nodded her head then turned and left the room as she read that the doctor needed the first available flight to LaGuardia while the doctor once again focused on the voice on the other end of the line.

“Yesterday…Joey, JC…and Lance…they were…kidnapped,” Johnny said in as steady a voice as he could manage.

Dr. Shannon felt as if someone had kicked the air completely out of his lungs and for several seconds he simply listened to Johnny give him all the details that he had up to that point.

Finally, the doctor felt as if he could draw in a deep breath and after doing so he asked Johnny several questions in order to gain a better grasp as to why he was needed.

“Okay…this is what I need you to do for me, Mr. Wright. Have the hotel physicians fax me immediately with Justin’s records. I also need to speak with whomever is with Chris just as soon as they are available.”

“Yes…I’ll get right to it with Justin’s records and I’ll give the phone to the hotel doctor if he can come to the phone.” Johnny briskly walked back down the hallway and went through the door as Dre opened it for him. At the same time the hotel doctor was speaking with Mike and Lonnie while Simon sat at Chris’s side on the couch.

“Ah…Mr. Wright…I was just telling these two gentlemen that Mr. Kirkpatrick is suffering from shock. I’ve given him something to help him rest and he should be much better after he’s awakened.”

Johnny visibly relaxed before speaking into the phone.

“Did you hear that Dr. Shannon?”

“Yes…yes I did.”

Johnny quickly explained to the hotel physician who was on the phone before handing it over. Once the two doctors began speaking, he made his way over to the couch and stooped over Chris’s slumbering form.

“He’s pretty much out of it, Johnny,” Simon commented as he picked up the damp cloth that was lying on Chris’s forehead. He shook it out and refolded it before placing it back on the young man’s forehead.

“He just needs to rest…that and get the others back…safe and sound.”

Simon nodded his head in agreement then stood up. “I’m going to check on Justin…just in case the doc needs to see him too.”

“Good…do that,” Johnny said as he watched the bodyguard leave the room. He didn’t notice Mike returning with the phone until it was placed in his view.

“Doc wants to speak with you again,” Mike said, handing the phone over to Johnny.

Johnny took the phone and spoke.

“Yes?”

“I’ll be arriving at United, gate 398 at 8:00 this evening. Dr. McWilliams let me know Chris’s condition and I’ve asked him to look in on Justin also. He’s having his office fax me Justin’s records and I should have them within the hour.”

“That’s good. I’ll have Mike meet you then.”

The pair said their goodbyes and Johnny handed the phone over to Mike.

“You’ll be meeting Dr. Shannon at LaGuardia…United, gate 398 at 8:00, Mike.”

“No problem, Johnny. I’ll call downstairs and get a room for Dr. Shannon.”

“Make it a suite…he wants Chris and Justin in there with him…so that he can keep better tabs on them,” Johnny said quietly as he brought his gaze back to Chris, who had not moved in the entire time that he had sat down beside him. Mike turned and walked away while Johnny reached down to pull the light blanket further up the young man’s body.

“You’re going to be okay, Chris…you and Justin, both. Dr. Shannon will be here tonight…he’ll take good care of the two of you…”

* * * * * * * *

Footsteps coming down the wooden stairs caused JC to jerk awake and he blearily glanced about the room. He blinked heavily several times before his vision cleared well enough that he could see Joey and Lance lying on their mattresses just a few feet away.

Joey’s eyes widening caused JC to struggle to turn over so that he could see who was approaching but his awkward position prevented him from doing that and he kept his eyes locked with Lance’s. The footsteps multiplied and grew louder as did the beating of JC’s heart. He was certain that his heart would beat its way out of his chest long before the figures would reach him. Moments later, four masked men were standing within the confines formed by their mattresses.

“Gentlemen…I’m sure you know the drill. If you speak without being spoken to, one of you will be killed…don’t know which one of you, but…hey…why take any chances?”

With Lance’s view of Joey being blocked by one of the four kidnappers, he slowly looked up at the man standing over him. Suddenly, he felt his stomach drop…in the man’s hands was a pistol that was pointed directly at him.

72 Hours, Ch. 8

Arrangements were being made downstairs with hotel management for another suite while Chris and Justin were being prepared to be moved into the new suite that they would be sharing with Dr. Shannon upon his arrival from Orlando. Johnny had bodyguards, Mitchell and Simon moving about in the boys’ rooms gathering their few belongings together while Mike and Lonnie were with Johnny in the room that Chris and Justin were currently sleeping in.

Chris was still heavily under the influence of the sedative that he had been given after hearing the kidnapper’s phone call and would have to be carried by one of the men. Justin, on the other hand, was somewhat more alert and would be able to make the move with their assistance.

“Now…why are we moving again and why is Chris so out of it?” Justin asked watching the movement about him, his voice somewhat sleep laden due to the tranquilizer that he had taken a few hours earlier. He had no idea what had happened to Chris nor did he know that the kidnappers had made contact. Johnny was waiting not only for both Justin and Chris to be more alert, but also for Dr. Shannon’s arrival before disclosing what had happened during the first phone call. He knew that the physician would be able to provide a certain level of calm to the pair…something that he was certain was going to be needed even more so for the next several days.

“The hotel doctor gave Chris another sedative…that’s why he’s sleeping so hard,” Johnny quietly explained, stepping out of Lonnie and Mike’s way as they moved to Chris’s side.

“We’re moving you into a different suite…doctor’s orders,” Johnny added, not revealing the doctor’s identity as he sat down at Justin’s side and carried on a quiet conversation with the young man, which soon turned more into a one-sided conversation when Justin slowly drifted back into a light slumber.

In the meantime, Mike and Lonnie quietly began discussing how they wanted to move Chris to the new suite.

“Okay…I’ll get the door and you can carry him, or…vice versa,” Lonnie said indecisively as he watched Mike pull away the light blanket that had been draped over Chris’s still form without the young man even being aware of the movement or their presence.

“That’s fine,” Mike replied before bending over Chris, gently running a large hand over his young charge’s head.

“Hey…Crazy. I need to take you to another room…okay?” he quietly whispered into Chris’s right ear, letting him know what was going on so that he would not become alarmed in his drugged state if he did become aware of the situation. The bodyguard really didn’t expect Chris to respond and wasn’t at all surprised when there was no sound or movement in response to his statement. Mike then gently grasped Chris’s shoulder and ran his other hand once again over the young man’s head before adjusting his lax body so that he could be more easily lifted off the bed.

“Alright, Chris…here we go on three,” he said while looking at Lonnie who was ready to help guide Chris up from the bed.

“One, two, three,” Mike murmured as he pushed his right arm under Chris’s knees while at the same time lifting the young man’s shoulders off the bed with his left arm. On three, Mike in one fluid movement, lifted Chris off the bed and gently held him against his chest, seemingly without any effort at all. At the same time, Lonnie reached over and carefully guided Chris’s lolling head forward until it rested against the crook of Mike’s thick neck then moved toward the door across the room.

Johnny felt his heart sink as he watched Chris being carried through the bedroom door and into the suite’s living area. He could feel the enormity of the situation weighing heavily on his shoulders. Fighting the mixture of emotions raging within him, he turned his attention back to Justin, preparing him for his move by removing the blanket covering him, all the while praying for all five of the boys, their families and for the strength and guidance in knowing what to do and say in the days to come.

* * * * * * * *

“Okay…Mr. Bass…you’re first,” one of the four masked men said as he stooped down before the obviously trembling young man while another of the men stood nearby, pointing a handgun at him.

Just seconds before, the masked men descended the basement stairs causing Lance’s heart to once again begin to beat wildly within his chest while his breaths seemed to become caught in his throat. He hated the fact that he was unable to stop his body from shaking, but there was no way that he could control the intense fear coursing through his being as he looked directly at the gun pointed in his direction. For a small instant he found the entire situation rather ironic. Just a few hours earlier he had fainted due to his heart acting up. Minutes later, he had come to with two of the kidnappers leaning over him, seemingly to be working feverishly to get his heart back into a regular rhythm and now…now, they were creating a situation where his heart was once again threatening to jump back into its irregular, sluggish pattern.

Lance’s frantic thoughts were temporarily interrupted when the gunman took a step forward. In the background he could hear Joey and JC’s quick, shallow breaths as the remaining kidnappers, who were also toting their own guns, confronted them. For a few seconds, Lance could only focus on the gun pointed in his direction, not hearing the words being spoken to him and the others until the man standing before him, knelt down into his line of sight. Lance immediately started and attempted to shrink back but stilled his movements when his shoulder was roughly grabbed.

“I’m going to remove your gag and you will take another pill…this one is going to help continue to keep your heartbeat regulated,” the figure said as he first forcibly pushed Lance from his side to his chest then grabbed a handful of his hair and pressed his head to his mattress, causing him to mumph into his gag in both surprise and discomfort. The muted grunts of pain that sounded from behind his gag became louder as Lance endured the pulling of the sticky tape away from his face and hair while Joey and JC winced at the sounds of distress coming from the younger man.

JC felt tears pricking the back of his eyes as he watched Lance writhe in pain not ten feet away while Joey felt a certain level rage beginning to build up within his being…fury against the men holding them captive and anger against the fact that he was unable to provide protection for his younger brother. Furiously, he tugged at the bonds holding him immobile, knowing that his efforts were futile, but at least he felt as if he was doing something.

“I don’t think I need to remind you that if you choose to speak…someone is going to get hurt,” the man prompted, ignoring JC and Joey as he briefly stopped what he was doing in order to roughly pull Lance into a seated position. Lance nodded his head then tightly clinched his eyes shut as he felt the tape once again not only pull hair painfully away from his scalp but also skin from his face. He winced when he felt his bottom lip suddenly split then grimaced when he tasted blood mixed with the sour residue left from the tape when, instinctively he licked his lips. Glancing back up at the kidnappers, he remained silent throughout in the hopes that if he kept their captors happy, he and the others might be spared further injury.

Once the tape had been pulled away, the rope that held his arms behind his back was removed as well as those tied about his ankles. He couldn’t help but flinch as feeling slowly began to return to his numbed limbs and found it difficult not to groan aloud when one of the other kidnappers bent over and roughly grasped his left arm in an effort to get him upright.

“Stand up, Mr. Bass,” the man said, his grasp becoming so tight that Lance gasped out in pain then moaned even louder when he was pulled forcefully to stand upright. His legs and feet instantly screamed in protest to the sudden movement after having been suffering from hours of inactivity and restraint. His knees then gave out on him and he had to depend upon the hand tightly grasping his arm to keep him from tumbling face first to the floor.

“Ahh…please,” he whispered hoarsely, the pain causing him to forget his promise of remaining silent. “Just…just give me…just a second…please…my legs…feet…I can’t…they hurt…please,” he quietly pleaded, before slowly realizing that he had just put one of his brother’s in a dangerous position and he quickly glanced up at the strangers around him, his eyes wide with panic and fear.

“Please…please don’t hurt them. I’m sorry…I know…I’m sorry…please…don’t…please” he franticly pleaded as inwardly, he shuddered at how pathetic his voice sounded, but he was desperate to protect JC and Joey. In the background he could hear Joey and JC’s harsh breathing and nothing more as he continued to stare at the four men all the while inwardly quaking…knowing that he had probably gone too far. He knew that he shouldn’t have said anything, but there had been no way that he could have remained silent…he had let the pain get the best of him and now maybe JC or Joey…maybe even both of them would possibly suffer as a result.

The oppressive silence weighed heavily on Lance’s shoulders until finally, one of the men spoke.

“Fortunately for your friends, I’m in a very forgiving mood right now, Mr. Bass,” Lawrence said as he stepped closer to the young man’s trembling form. In response, Lance took one tentative step backward but his attempt to move further away were stopped by another pair of hands that tightly grasped his right arm. With eyes wide with growing fear, Lance glanced at the three men who were now surrounding him.

“Notice that I said it was fortunate for your friends, Mr. Bass and that makes it not so very fortunate for you.”

With a small nod of his head, Barrett and Zachary pulled Lance’s trembling, protesting form away from the middle of the room toward one of the far darkened corners while Cary briefly closed his eyes then took a deep breath.

“Guys…we just got his heart regulated again,” he reminded them, knowing that Zachary was well aware of the fact since they had both been the ones to watch over the blond for more than an hour until his breathing and heart rate had stabilized.

“Be careful…okay?” he added, frustration evident in his tired voice.

“Cary…you need to shut up,” Larry growled from the opposite side of the room, causing the younger man to cringe.

‘Geez…I hope I just didn’t make it worse for that Bass kid,’ Cary thought before slowly rotating his head on his shoulders in an effort to relieve some of the tension he was beginning to feel build in his neck before looking down at the two figures still lying on the floor at his feet. He instantly regretted having done so when he saw the anguish on JC’s ashen face while Joey’s face revealed intense anger, causing him to be thankful for the fact that the young man was still tightly bound, unable to lash out.

Cary swallowed hard then knelt down so that he was at eye level with the pair. For several seconds, he made no effort to speak, knowing that there were really no words that he could say to either one of them…he was the enemy…the dangerous foe and, no matter how badly he was beginning to feel about it, he would continue remain in that position until the nightmare would be over with the ransom being received.

From the dark shadows beneath the staircase, sounds began to drift out toward the middle of the room. The unmistakable sounds of someone being hit…hollow sounds of fists hitting solid flesh…moans and grunts of pain…harsh breathing…more pain filled moans…then…then a sound that caused the two young men to suddenly still and stiffen their awkward postures on the floor…the sound of Lance’s low voice pleading…no…begging for the beating to stop, but Cary knew that that would not make much difference to Lawrence…very little at all. With a small shake of his head, Cary looked at JC before beginning to speak to the pale figure.

“I’m going to untie you, Mr. Chasez. There’s no need for me to warn you about speaking, is there?”

Not expecting a response, Cary made quick work of releasing JC of his bonds all the while feeling Joey’s hateful gaze bouncing off his back. Just as Cary finished untying JC, shuffling footsteps along with the distinct sounds of something or, more than likely someone being dragged across the dirt floor could be heard.

“Hey…Cary…get the first aid kit,” one of the men said aloud, his voice full of amusement. The man stooped over JC slowly stood up then turned around to see Zachary pulling Lance’s still form over to his mattress all the while hearing Joey’s muted, but distinctly angry cries and JC’s quiet sobs.

* * * * * * * *

Dr. Shannon walked anxiously down the ramp toward Mike Headnot, his stomach in knots over the reasons why he had been asked to rush to New York.

“How was your flight, doc?” the bodyguard asked trying to put the man at ease as he reached for one of the medical bags that the he was carrying.

“Long, Mike…long. How are the boys? Any word on Joshua or the others?” he asked, his tone almost desperate while at the same time hushed, understanding that he needed to keep his voice low so that those around them couldn’t hear him. As of yet, the kidnapping had remained out of the media and it needed to remain that way until the proper time.

“Justin and Chris are doing about as well as expected, doc,” Mike answered just as quietly, his eyes roaming about at the people passing by, to and fro, always on the lookout for trouble of any kind.

“We haven’t heard any more about the others…not yet, at least. The investigators seem to think we’ll hear from them in the morning sometime.”

Dr. Shannon sadly nodded his head at the information as he followed the bodyguard through the crowded terminal to where the rest of his baggage was located. The pair made small talk but for the most part, they immersed themselves in tense silence, both knowing that there really weren’t any words that could be said to make the situation any better…none at all.

After fighting through more crowds, as well as security surrounding the baggage claims area and waiting through more than and additional thirty minutes of delays, Dr. Shannon’s baggage was finally gathered. Mike then led him to a limousine parked outside and the driver quickly placed the baggage, with Mike’s help, into the trunk while Dr. Shannon got inside the vehicle.

“It’ll take about 45 minutes, doc before we get there,” Mike said as he settled himself into he seat opposite the doctor who simply nodded his head before turning to watch out the window as the vehicle merged into the slow flow of traffic.

“Well…accounting said that they would take care of everything,” Johnny said, his voice taking on an almost monotone quality as he hung up the phone with an exhausted sigh. He had spent the better part of the day following Lance’s desperate phone call scrambling to find the money necessary to meet the kidnapper’s demands. The actual difficulty did not lie in being able to raise that amount of money…$12 million…since the group had very often made that much money, if not more in a week or two’s worth of concert dates. The difficulty lay in transferring the money through the proper channels. All assets were tied in various investments and commitments. Certain shareholders and investors also had to be notified of their dilemma and advised on what to say and not to say to those who might ask questions. And, if that did not cause enough complication, the tags that the investigators were placing upon the money at the same time was making the job of handling the ransom demands even that more problematic. The FBI and others who were handling the investigation into the kidnapping were placing carefully developed tracers on the accounts being set up for portions of the monies being demanded, as well as notifying officials at the various banks holding the accounts listed during the phone call. Investigators were also working to come up with some special measures that would help in tracing the cash that would eventually be carried by hand to the yet to be disclosed area that the kidnappers wanted Chris and Justin to deliver it to.

“When will it be here, Mr. Wright,” Detective Tarkington asked as he sat down on the far end of the couch.

“Jeffrey Gable, one of our senior accountants said that the accounts would be taken care of by midnight and that the cash would be here in the morning just as soon as the banks opened. Mike and Lonnie will be able to withdraw the money after a few last minute phone calls are made.”

After speaking, Johnny glanced down at his hands in his lap as he tried to calm his tumultuous thoughts.

“The kidnappers want Chris and Justin to take some of the cash to them,” he said in a low voice, more as a statement than a question.

“Yes…that’s something that we’ll need to plan for very carefully. While you were on the phone, we worked out some preliminary plans. You did say that their personal physician would be here this evening, right?”

“Yes…Dr. Shannon should be here within an hour or two,” Johnny answered. He had overheard some of the plans and didn’t like them…not at all. “What do you need with their doctor?”

“I’d rather not get into that right now, Mr. Wright,” Detective Grayson said as he walked up to the pair after overhearing their conversation. “Plans haven’t been finalized yet, we’re just needing the doctor’s opinion to help us in making some decisions.”

He didn’t think Johnny needed to hear all of what they possibly had planned until they were ready. There were still some details that would need to be ironed out first and the chance of having Johnny possibly attempting to interfere with those plans was something that no one wanted to see happen. He would need to remind Johnny, family and friends that the ultimate goal was to have the three kidnap victims returned safe and sound through any means necessary…even if that means involved putting the lives of Justin and Chris into temporary jeopardy.

“Have you spoken with family members lately, Mr. Wright?” Detective Tarkington asked, hoping to change the direction of the conversation and fortunately, he was successful.

“Umm…JC’s parents called again…so did the Fatone’s,” Johnny answered tiredly recalling the anguish and fear he heard in the voices of those family members he spoke with. Speaking with both families had been heart-wrenching enough. Knowing that he had three more families to speak with was causing a small headache that he had been trying to ignore to slightly escalate in intensity. He lightly rubbed his temples as he continued speaking.

“Lance’s parents are supposed to be calling around 10:00 this evening. Lynn, Justin’s mother and Chris’s mother, Beverly will be calling sometime later this evening too. They know…they know about the demands and…and they have strong feelings about their sons participating in the demands.”

While Lynn had adamantly forbade Justin from complying with any demands being made by the kidnappers, Beverly had been almost the exact opposite in that she wanted Chris to do whatever he felt he needed to do. She realized that with her son being almost 30 years old, he was fully capable of making his own decisions and would do so anyway…no matter what her feelings on the situation.

“When they call…I want them to hear the tape of Lance’s phone call…that just might persuade Mrs. Harliss to allow her son to help out,” another detective said as he stepped forward.

Johnny shook his head. In no way did he want the two women to hear what he and Chris had heard, but he knew that it would probably create the turning point in Lynn’s mind if she did happen to hear it.

“Mr. Wright…all families involved need to hear that phone call…no matter how difficult it will be for any of them. You do understand that…don’t you?”

In response to the last statement, Johnny simply nodded his head in agreement…he had no more words to say…none at all.

More than an hour later, Dr. Shannon strode behind bodyguard Mike Headnot, down the long, narrow hallway leading to the suite where Chris and Justin had been moved to several hours before in anticipation of his arrival. Much of the hour-long drive from the airport to the hotel had been spent with Mike answering as many of the doctor’s questions as he was capable of. Now the only thing on the doctor’s mind was getting to Chris and Justin as quickly as possible.

The phone call that he had received earlier in the day from the group’s manager, Johnny Wright had been totally unexpected. Granted, he had received phone calls in the past concerning the health and well-being of JC, Joey, Chris, Justin and Lance but never had he even dreamed that he would get a phone call like the one he had earlier in the afternoon.

‘Kidnapped…they’ve been kidnapped!’ his mind screamed.

“They’re right in here, doc,” Mike said quietly as he and Dr. Shannon stopped before a door near the end of the hallway.

“Hi, Mike,” a police officer said as he stood up from a chair he had been sitting on. “You must be Dr. Kenneth Shannon,” he added, putting out his hand. “I’m Luke Moyeda…NYPD.”

“Nice to meet you, Officer Moyeda,” the doctor replied shaking his hand after shifting one of his bags to his left hand.

“There hasn’t been any more word from the kidnappers, Mike,” the officer said without prompting. “Everything has been pretty quiet since we moved Mr. Timberlake and Mr. Kirkpatrick over here. I think we’re supposed to be hearing from one of the families in a few minutes. The…Bass’s I believe.”

Mike nodded his head and stepped back when the officer opened the door for he and Dr. Shannon and seconds later, the door closed behind them as they walked into the suite’s entryway.

“Is that Dr. Shannon?” a soft voice asked from across the room.

“Yes…I think so, J.”

Dr. Shannon immediately recognized the voices as being Johnny’s and Justin’s and he quickly made his way across the large room to the sitting area. Hearing the doctor’s approaching footsteps and Mike’s voice, Justin turned to look behind him.

“Dr. Shannon?” he said quietly as he stood up shakily from the couch on which he had been reclining while Dr. Shannon immediately put his bags down on the nearby coffee table before being almost instantly enveloped by Justin’s long, lanky arms.

No words were exchanged while Dr. Shannon held Justin’s shaking form and he soon realized that Justin was silently crying when he felt his shoulder becoming wet with the young man’s tears.

“Justin…shhh…Justin,” the doctor said quietly as he looked over the young man’s shoulder to see that Johnny was now standing along with a few others that he recognized as being the various bodyguards of the group. He and Johnny gazed intently at each other until Justin moved away and put his hands up over his face in an effort to wipe away his tears.

“Sorry…sorry,” he whispered as Dr. Shannon placed his hand on Justin’s shoulder, ushering him back to the couch while Johnny nodded his head at the other men, effectively dispersing the small group.

“I’ll go check on Chris,” Mike said quietly and was joined by Lonnie, while Dre and the others stepped into the kitchen area.

“Sit back, Justin,” Dr. Shannon said. “ I want to see how you are doing. Could you get the lights for me, Mr. Wright?”

Johnny moved away to turn on some lights as requested while Justin sank back into the pillows at one end of the couch.

“You need to check on Chris first, doc,” Justin murmured through his hands. “He’s been out of it since…since…since the phone call.”

Dr. Shannon nodded his head before realizing that Justin wouldn’t see his reply since he was once again struggling with more tears.

“I know all about it, Justin, but I want to spend some time with you first then I’ll see Chris. Maybe you’ll be up to going in there with me too.”

“Okay…okay.”

Dr. Shannon opened two of his bags and quickly went about the task of checking Justin’s vitals all the while asking the young man questions in an effort to not only find out how he was doing physically but also emotionally. After several minutes, Dr. Shannon was relieved to find that although Justin was doing fairly well physically, he didn’t like how slow his reflexes were, but the doctor knew that not only the medications that had been prescribed were more than likely the culprits but also the lack of restful sleep.

“Justin…I want you to get something on your stomach. I need for you to eat something for me, son,” Dr. Shannon said, but was immediately interrupted.

“I can’t…no…not…I just can’t, Dr. Shannon...no. I don’t want to,” Justin said quietly, his face dropping back into his hands while his shoulders began to shake with quiet sobs.

“Your stomach bothering you? Have you been nauseous…cramping? The medications might cause that kind of reaction, Justin if you don’t eat something.” Dr. Shannon concentrated on Justin’s shaking figure until Johnny carefully touched him on the shoulder then began whispering to him.

“Doc…he hasn’t wanted to eat at all because he doesn’t know if Joey, JC or Lance are being fed. He can’t stand the fact that he can eat when they might not be able to or possibly even allowed to,” Johnny said so quietly that both were sure that Justin had not heard a word.

Dr. Shannon looked up at the manager never expecting that response…but at the same time, he could also admit that he wasn’t in the least bit surprised at the young man’s reasoning. Justin had always seemed to be the most sensitive of the group when it came to his older brothers. And…in all actuality, Justin’s way of thinking made all the sense in the world, but he was going to have to find some way to convince the young man otherwise.

The doctor nodded in understanding then bowed his head, his thoughts tumbling about as he weighed his few options in trying to get the young man to eat. Mike had told him about what the kidnappers were demanding…that Justin and Chris deliver part of the ransom to an undisclosed location. He had also been told that neither Chris nor Justin had handled hearing the phone message very well. Although Justin had not collapsed like Chris, he had become physically ill, according to the bodyguard. Maybe he could try convincing him that he needed to eat in order to prepare to meet the demands, but that possibility caused his own stomach to churn.

‘Okay…I’ll check on Chris, then come back and tackle this problem,’ the doctor thought to himself before looking up at the young man.

“Justin…I’d like for you to do something for me…okay?” He had to watch closely to see Justin’s small nod before he spoke again.

“I need for you to just take it easy for a little while. I’m going to go check on Chris and I’ll be back in a few minutes…okay?”

The blond looked up and shook his head. “No…I’m coming with you, Dr. Shannon.”

He slowly turned on the couch and swung his legs over the side then shakily stood up. Not two seconds later, the color seemed to completely drain from his face and he wavered on his feet as a wave of darkness swept through him while the room seemed to tilt wildly back and forth.

“Whoa there,” Dr. Shannon said as he immediately stepped closer to the young man in order to grab the young man by the shoulders, preventing him toppling over. Justin seemed grateful for the help and did little in the way of protest when he was quickly lowered back onto the couch. Once seated, he lowered his head into his hands and gently rubbed at his temples with his fingertips, all the while muttering to himself about just being a little bit dizzy.

“This is exactly why you need to get something on your stomach, Justin,” Dr. Shannon said firmly, leaving no room for argument. “The dizziness will pass just as soon as you eat something…I can guarantee that.”

Justin simply nodded sadly in response to the comment without looking up, knowing that the doctor was right. Dr. Shannon patted his shoulder before picking up one of his medical bags.

“Mike? Can you show me where Chris is, please?”

“Right this way, doc,” the bodyguard said as he allowed the doctor to walk ahead of him toward two sets of doors on the far end of the room. “The door to the left, doc.”

“Thank you, Mike. I shouldn’t take very long in there. If I need any help in getting Chris up, I’ll call for you. In the meantime, call up some soup and a sandwich for Justin. If he argues about eating, tell him he can’t see Chris unless he does.

“You got it, Dr. Shannon,” Mike replied with a small smile before walking away while the doctor quickly opened the indicated door and stepped inside the dimly lit room. Walking over to a tabletop lamp, he turned it on, bathing the bedroom in an even warmer glow, revealing the still figure lying on one of the beds across the room.

“Chris? Chris?” the doctor called out as he walked across the room, noting that the slumbering figure remained motionless, other than the slow and steady rise of his chest.

Putting his bags down, the doctor walked into the nearby bathroom, grabbed a washcloth off the wall rack and quickly wet it then rung it out into the sink before walking back out into the bedroom.

He then sat down beside Chris as he folded the cloth then placed it on his forehead, all the while looking for some sort of response.

For a few seconds there was none…then…a small shifting across Chris’s features let the doctor know that the young man might be attempting to awaken.

At the same time, even in his deep state of sleep, Chris could sense that he was no longer alone…there was someone within inches of him…speaking to him…calling his name.

“Chris…Chris. I need for you to wake up for me…just for a few minutes,” a familiar voice said, softly pulling the young man from his deep, drug-induced sleep.

The feel of a damp cool cloth being removed then once again being placed on his forehead further brought him closer to the surface of consciousness and he mumbled something as he moved slightly under the light blanket spread over him.

There was slight laughter from the disembodied voice and Chris felt a cool, dry hand on his cheek. Then, without warning, soft, warm light invaded the darkness cocooning Chris when his right eyelid was gently pulled up.

“Nngh…ungh…mmm,” Chris moaned while trying to avoid the light. Sluggishly, he raised one hand and weakly grasped the wrist connected to the offensive hand when his right eyelid was allowed to close.

“Christopher Alan…it’s time to wake up…come on,” the voice encouraged and Chris made a great effort to fight against the strong pull of sleep.

“That’s it…keep on waking up…come on…come on…that’s it…almost there, Chris,” the voice said and somewhere, through the thick fog, Chris could finally put a name to the voice that was speaking to him.

“Doc…Dr. Shannon?” he whispered as he slowly cracked his eyes open to see the blurry and fuzzy, yet familiar figure of Dr. Shannon seated at his side on his bed.

“What…what are…what are you doing here?” Chris asked quietly, confused by the doctor’s presence in his hotel room in New York.

“Johnny called me early this afternoon and here I am,” was the doctor’s gentle response.

Chris simply nodded at the reply before allowing his eyelids to slowly droop shut again…the pull of the drugs were just too strong for him keep them at bay.

“Nope…Chris…come on, son. I need you to stay awake for me,” Dr. Shannon said as he gently patted Chris’ lax features, but his efforts were now going unrewarded.

“Boy…I’ve never seen you this out of it before,” he said, slightly puzzled and a little worried by the fact that Chris was unable to remain awake for more than 30 seconds.

With a deep frown, the physician glanced at the pill bottle standing on the small bedside table then leaned over and picked it up.

“Geez…no wonder,” he said with an even deeper frown marring his usually relaxed features. “Okay…I guess the hotel doctor thought you needed the big guns instead of what he told me he gave you. I guess you’ll be out a while longer, kiddo.”

With a small sigh, he stood up and readjusted the blanket covering Chris before reaching for one of the medical bags he had placed on the floor. With sure, deft movements the doctor made quick work of checking Chris’ vitals while at the same time keeping up a quiet, one-sided monologue knowing that even though the young man was seeming dead to the world, he would be able to hear his words…maybe not fully understand him, but would at least be able to hear his reassuring tone. The drugs that had been prescribed very often had some harsh side effects including nightmares and restlessness and, hopefully, he would be able to help Chris in avoiding those snares as long as he kept a watchful vigil over the young man.

Finishing his work, he picked up the damp cloth from Chris’s forehead and walked back into the bathroom to wet it again. At the same time, a quiet knock sounded on the door before it opened to reveal Mike holding a tray with Lonnie standing behind him assisting Justin in walking over to the table and chairs nearby.

“He said he’d eat if he could be in here with Crazy,” Mike said with a small smile and a shrug of his shoulders. Having a soft heart for Justin he had not had the heart to say no to his request. In a sense, he reasoned that he would be killing two birds with one stone in allowing Justin to eat in Chris’s room.

“That’s fine, Mike,” Dr. Shannon said with a small smile of his own. He walked back over to Chris’s side and laid the washcloth back on the young man’s forehead while Lonnie sat with Justin, who was taking small, tentative bites of his sandwich.

“It looks like it’s going to be a long night, Christopher,” the doctor quietly whispered. “A very long night, indeed.”

* * * * * * * *

JC, Joey, and Lance uneasily watched the last pair of feet disappear at the top of the stairway at the far end of the basement before releasing the collective deep breath that they had been holding. The three were all seated on their mattresses, their backs pressed against support poles, their arms pulled behind them and securely bound with duct tape. The kidnappers had also taped their ankles together, but had decided to forgo taping their mouths shut, without explanation or instructions.

Although they had not been directed to remain silent, the trio looked about them, somewhat fearful of taking a chance in speaking. After several more minutes of tense silence, it was Joey who decided to take that chance.

“Um…are you two doing okay? Lance…are you okay? Are you hurting or anything,” he asked, all the while watching the ceiling in anticipation of heavy footsteps sounding overhead. There were a few seconds of nervous silence, before Lance answered in a voice that was just as quiet and laced with pain.

“I’m…I’m doing…better…not hurting as badly since one of them gave me something,” he said incredulously before looking tentatively at JC, waiting for his reply but there was none.

“Jace…are you okay?” Joey asked as he pulled against his bindings so that he could better see JC’s features, which was next to impossible, since the older man’s head was bowed, his hair slightly hiding his face.

“Josh?” Lance asked, watching the older man raise his head then lay it back against the pole that he was bound against.

“Yeah…I’m doing okay, I guess,” JC answered, his voice momentarily faltering. “What about you, Joe? You going to make it?”

“I’m hurting, but…it’s just crazy,” he said with a shake of his head. “They beat us up…then they give us something for the pain. It just doesn’t make any sense.”

“Like any of this does?” Lance said, his tone bitter as he tugged futilely at his bonds. “Nothing makes sense.”

“Well…there is one good thing, though,” JC said quietly. “At least we haven’t seen their faces. That has to be something in our favor. I mean…they’re bound to let us go if we can’t identify them.”

“You’re right, Jace. And…they’ve been feeding us too,” Joey added as he tried to find a comfortable position on his mattress before giving up on his attempts with a small groan of frustration.

“Geez…I can’t believe this is happening to us. We’ve been kidnapped…kidnapped,” JC said in disbelief. “World famous singers…kidnapped right off their tour bus out in the middle of nowhere.”

“Guys…it won’t be just us,” Lance said, looking at the others. “In less than three days…they’re going to have Chris and Justin here too.”

“What will happen to all of us then?”

“I don’t know, Joey…I don’t know,” JC answered sadly.