The Apple

Unchained Melody

The smell of chalk burns through Johnny's nose, and his head pounds, as he tries to regain his memory of what happened before his blackout. Peeling his face from the steel table, he hears a girl scream in front of him, but can only see shadows through his blurred vision. Where the hell am I? A loose chain bites into his flesh and fear pinches his thoughts. While blinking to fade out the darkness, he notices several sets of eyes around him and hears the chocked out scream again.

"You have to help her!" A small voice came from his right, "you and him are the only ones unchained to the chairs."

Johnny kicks his feet out, his leather boots making an echo of a thud in the room, and sees that the chair to his left is flipped over.

"That was his chair," The voice came again.

"What?" Johnny finally asked.

"We don't know. He just opened his folder and went after the girl."

The folder? Johnny's eyes flew back to the silver table, and found two black folders. He first examined the opened one, it had a small sheet of paper with the typed words, "if you want to live, kill her." Johnny shook his head as he let the words sink in, and then took a look into his own folder. One small paper laid inside, typed upon it "save her". It was a good thing it didn't say anything along the lines of 'if you want to live', cause frankly, he could care. He takes the slip of paper and looks around, ignoring all the curious glances, until he locks eyes on the girl, the girl someone wants him to save. Well isn't that ironic, he was to be the hero.

Hands were wrapped around her throat and the shirtless man they belonged too was standing above her, blocking her from Johnny's sight. His black slacks were dirty and frayed at the bottoms, and his bare feet were planted on each side of her chair in his death grip.

"Get away from her." Johnny said plainly and the man didn't flinch. "Hey, I said, get your hands off of her," His voice, a bit more lifted this time, still gained no response. After a brief moment of remorse for the poor girl, he came to a decision, and relaxed back down into his chair. Almost immediately the disapproving gasps filled the air.

"She will be fine." Johnny tried to settle the crowd.

"You have to save her, how can you just sit there and let that monster do this?" The same voice came again.

Johnny looked over to match the voice to a face. The short guy sitting to his right had an expression of pure disgust and shook his head systematically. His brown eyes were wide and he looked like he might pass out. "Please, just help her." His voice came out in a pleading gentleness Johnny had never heard. It was honest and selfless and it made Johnny wonder what the girl meant to him.

"Do you know her?"

"Does it matter?"

"Who are you?"

"Patrick. But my name isn't important, her life is."

This guy was hell bent on saving this girl, and Johnny had a feeling he didn't even know her name. Why would someone be so desperate to help a stranger? Something about this Patrick was different, and so Johnny proceeded to ease his mind.

"When I said she will be fine Patrick, it was because I know he won't kill her."

As those last six words flowed from Johnny's mouth, a chair down at the other end of the table slammed down onto the cement floors. "What did you just say?" A pale man was looking down the table and had his eyes set on Johnny. "How could you know that he won't kill her? That's impossible." His narrow eyes held secrets, and searched for the same.

Johnny was weary of the new comer and choose his next words wisely. "He is afraid, and killers are usually confident, excited even, but hardly ever afraid."

Those sharp eyes watched him like a snake, "And how do you know he is afraid?"

Something about this man made Johnny feel uneasy. "Two very important factors," he rose from his chair and made his way to the damsel in distress. "One," he kicks out the man's leg and watches him crumble, "he isn't focused. When one sets out to kill, they concentrate at the task at hand. And the second and most obvious of reasons," Johnny grabs the girls chair and drags it back next to his own, "is that she isn't dead yet." Johnny picks up the paper out of the attacker's folder, helps him up, and slaps the note onto his chest, "don't believe everything you read." The man caught the note, kept his head down, and found his chair.

Snake eyes down at the end of the table was still watching him, "So let me get this straight, you didn't really know that he wouldn't kill her? Just suspected it from his actions?"

"Something like that, yes."

Johnny looked towards Patrick, who was mouthing a thank you, and then his eyes found her. She was completely unconscious and her brown hair was all static from her struggle. A blue bruise on her neck, about the size of a thumbprint, made a wave of guilt wash over him. "Does anyone know CPR?" He found himself asking before the thought cleared his mind.

"I do," Patrick said, "but I'm also chained to this chair. I can walk you through it though."

Johnny starred down at her chained hands, wishing his own were still imprisoned, and shook his head.

"If you're worried about her chains, don't be, they're far enough apart for you to help her."

Johnny wasn't afraid of the chains, but of what they let loose, the hands of a killer. He looked down at her tear stained face and could almost hear her begging for his help. "Okay, what do I need to do?"