Chapter II

illiam stood perfectly still.  He had no idea if on what he was standing would tilt.  If only he could get his eyes to focus in the pitch blackness of the room.  He had no idea as to why he was trussed up like this, and the coarseness of rope around his neck bit into his skin.

Questions flooded his mind.  Where was Sharon?  How had he gotten here?  The thought struck him hard . . .  there could only be one thing they were after.

Slowly, his memory began to return as the effects of the drug began to ease off.  Somewhere, in the distance he could hear loud raucous laughter, tin-panny music and what sounded like dice being thrown against a wall.  It was a completely different scene than what he remembered.

Slowly the memory of them sitting at a little outside restaurant when the waiter came over to their table eased through the fog in his brain.  He offered them the complimentary raspberry-peach iced-tea of the house, left the drinks and disappeared promising to be back shortly.

The next thing he knew he was in pitch blackness standing on what felt like some sort of small ring.  His hands tingled, his arms hurt and he was getting mad.  He remembered coming to with someone prodding him with their foot ordering him to stand.

At the same time they'd pulled on the huge rope around his neck.  His neck popped as he was all but dragged to his feet.  He was finally standing up, with the rope taut, the hangman's noose pressed hard up against the side of his head.

Suddenly two pairs of hands picked him up, raised and stood him on some kind of object that felt like a stool or a bucket.  "If he steps or falters, he'll hang himself," an unfamiliar voice said to the companion.  The companion chuckled and Will could hear their receding steps echoing in the vastness of whatever building he was in.

He yelled against the gag placed in his mouth but nothing intelligible came out.  He screamed trying to get their attention, but the steps neither slowed nor ceased.

Will struggled against the restraints on his hands but they held fast.  He was finally able to bite through the handerchief which held the gag in place, and was able to rake the blind off his head using the rope.  That's when he realized he was in pitch darkness.

He was very afraid to move his feet for fear of tipping whatever it was on which he was standing.  He only knew it was round, for his feet hung off the edges.  He just knew if he lost his balance, he was done for.  And Sharon would be too.  He'd been standing in this position for what seemed like hours.

"This is just the sort of thing I thought I was through with," he thought to himself.  "If I could get my hands on the guys who put me into this predicament, I'd choke him!"

Suddenly the warehouse in which he was standing was flooded with light.  The noose around his neck was just loose enough for him to glance down and see he was standing on the lid of a 5 gallon bucket.  He was less than an inch off the floor, but he didn't know that in the dark!  In disgust he stepped off the lid, and kicked it across the floor.  My, but it felt good to be on solid terra firma again!

"Well," he thought to himself.  "I don't think they are trying to kill me, but, if they are trying to scare, they've done a good job of that!"

He realized they were playing mind games with him, as he was made to believe he'd been picked up and set up on some kind of elevated object.

Will quickly looked around.  No one.  Nothing but a huge empty building, and he was right in the middle of it.  It looked to be some kind of huge warehouse, with forklift tire marks on the floor, the smell of some kind of chemical of which he knew nothing was overpowering.

"That's a cruel trick to play on someone," he said with a voice as loud and forceful as he could muster.

No answer.

"Can't let them know I'm scared" he thought to himself.

"Where's my wife?" he asked.

Suddenly he chilled to the bone and his blood went cold at the voice he heard.

"She's being very well taken care of . . ." replied the voice of Sgt Chris James.  He was the detective with whom he'd had so much trouble back home.  "I've been tending to her my very own self . . ." His chuckle was wicked and made him fear for Sharon's well being.

Will knew they were both in a heap of trouble.  How could he possibly ever get out of a fix like this?  He was alone, in a strange town, and at the mercy of those who'd already sought to do him great bodily harm.  He sure didn't have much hope at this point.

Finally he spoke.  "You must have an awesome bank account to allow you to be free after the lawless suite of actions you pulled," William said with as much sarcasm, strength and bravado as he could muster.

Just as suddenly as they came on, the lights went off.  In what seemed was just a couple of minutes, heard click of a hammer being cocked on a revolver.  The gun fired, a woman screamed, and it echoed in the vastness of the warehouse.  Then all was quiet.

"That sure sounded like Sharon's voice!" thought William.  "Or was that just a another mind game?  William was sure he'd heard that voice somewhere before."

William stood perfectly still not knowing what to expect.  All was quiet, even the laughter and the music had stopped.

From out of no where the detective's voice came then as a loud whisper.  We'll see you tomorrow Mr. Travis.  But you won't see us . . .

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