Euphoria

Chapter Thirty: Innocent Blood

Sean continued trying to work the zip tie off his wrists, rubbing his skin raw despite not being at it for long. He had been sitting in the back of a car for the past fifteen minutes, waiting for someone to pull him out, set him in the grass on his knees and shoot him in the back of the head executioner style. Muffled voices and weird sounds occasionally drifted into his field of hearing. Still, nothing more than the continual rumble of the engine was ever consistent enough for him to comprehend their speech or what was making that awful gasping noise.

One of his captures might of had a deviated septum or asthma, he guessed.

But what were they doing here? From the deep chill in the air, it was probably around midnight, and he had been close to dozing off quite a few times, but each time he'd wake up gasping for air and shivering, the wool bag preventing him from getting a good rest before whatever was going to happen. He just hoped that wherever he was, it wouldn't be his final destination.

"You an unmodded too?"

The unfamiliar voice was enough to nudge him from his thoughts, and he stiffened, attempting to salvage whatever was left of the illusion that he was sleeping. He slowly laid back in his seat, stifling his breathing, his eyes focused on the black abyss next to him, the only thing he could see with the bag over his head, where the voice came from.

"Please, answer me. I can hear you moving. And I heard you gasp a few times. I don't think anyone could sleep like this." The man said. Judging by his voice, he was in his early to mid-twenties. Around the age, Sean decided to do something with his life. "I heard the guards talking about an exchange earlier. Maybe that's you?"

Hope-filled him at the mention of an exchange, knowing it might be his brothers, but he also sympathized, sighing under the thick hood. "No. I'm Modified. But don't worry, I'm not like most of us. I won't down you for your decision to live naturally. I applaud you. It's exhausting."

"Definitely doesn't help that the air around here is unclean, " He said, agreeing. "I get sick all the time. But that's why they caught me. It's because I'm not Modified like them. Like you. Except, I have a mom to get home to. She's probably worried sick about me."

Sean didn't know what to say, changing positions. If people were being hunted down for being UnModified, then how could his brothers hope to survive? And how could he help this boy make it home alive? "How about we make a deal, huh?"

-

Jameson stared straight ahead, right at the men who had taken his brothers and held him for ransom. For some reason, they had accepted the deal—thirty thousand dollars instead of forty like they asked beforehand. Perhaps they knew what was at stake too. This was how much was stolen from the captures, and it was how much they were willing to pay to get their precious brother back.

Jackie was already out of the car, black duffel in hand, glancing back at his brother, still in the car, holding tightly to the steering wheel. He waved, motioning for him to come out. In truth, the hero was nervous. He had never done an exchange like this before, and he didn't exactly know how they even worked.

He couldn't explain it, but a feeling of intense dread had burrowed itself into his gut the closer they got to their destination. What if this was all a trick? But he couldn't think like that, one hand reaching for his blue hood, pulling it over his faded green hair. If he were to be nervous, they wouldn't know it.

Jameson eventually got out of the car, meeting the men halfway, a safe distance between both groups.

"Hand over my brother, and I'll hand over the cash." He said, his hand brushing over his empty holster, no longer comforted by the presence of his gun, so he reached into his vest pocket, holding the icy outer shell of his pocket watch. The chilliness reminded him of better times when he didn't have to fight to survive, and there was no danger of being kidnapped.

"I don't think so." The man said, pointing to the duffel. "You throw up the duffel, and your brother will walk to you."

Both brothers looked to each other for an answer, seemingly agreeing on what to do, albeit silently. "Fine." Jackie said, throwing the duffel near them, the bag nearly swallowed by the snow. "Now, our brother. Quickly. We haven't got all day."

One of the men pushed Sean forward, and he fell face-first into the frigid white powder, struggling to get up with his hands zip-tied behind him.

Jameson quickly moved forward as the men starting to walk back to their car, crouching down into the cold beside him and removing the black hood preventing him from drawing a free breath. The smile that once lit up his face disappeared instantly as he gazed into the man's unfamiliar hazel eyes. "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm Luke. Your brother said you would help me escape... He's still inside." Luke motioned to the black Cadillac still parked on the dirt road, the windows tinted.

Jameson pondered for a moment, his mouth open to speak when the backdoor of the vehicle slammed open, one of the men rushing around the side to figure out what was going on. He was abruptly shoved back by a pair of strong legs, losing his footing and falling over the muddy slope slick with rainwater and snow, a loud cry shattering the peaceful evening.

Both brothers sprung into action at this, no longer stunned by the sudden outburst, moving toward the car as fast as their numb legs would carry them.

Sean's bagged head poked out from the backseat, and he struggled to stand, eventually hauling himself up and running in a random direction, screaming at the top of his lungs.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jameson could see one of the men grab for his gun, hastily aiming at the running target and pulling the trigger, wasting no time.

The sound was almost like a thud, but it hit deep, and it was enough to send him onto his frontside, legs sprawled out in the snow, chest heaving. The pitch that came after was deafening—an audible break, like that of a whip cracking against air, but much louder.

It seemed to reverberate through Jameson's very core as he watched Sean gasp and wheeze, unable to move. He knew the pain hadn't registered yet, and the heat was enough to penetrate more profoundly than the snow itself.

He looked like a wounded deer, oozing red into the small particles of ice, innocent and vulnerable.

He knew Sean couldn't move, he couldn't cry out, but soon enough there would be agony. And it would be unimaginable.