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.