The Six: Complete Series

by E. C. Richard

  “What’d we get him on? Twenty years right?”

  It was seventeen and, with good behavior and parole, he’d be out in ten. “Yeah. I really don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Of course,” Benjamin said. He’d probably forgotten how he’d declined their case because he thought there was “no merit to the charges” and made Simon’s mother cry. It took everything he had not to punch the man in the face. All Benjamin must remember is the Newsweek cover and their fat paycheck at the end of the trial.

  The light above them flickered again.

  “We need to get out of here,” Benjamin said.

  Simon shrugged. “But how? The door’s locked, right?”

  It was then that a booming noise shook the room. “What the fuck?” Dennis said. Lila screamed, and Milo huddled into the corner. Marie stood up and looked around the room for any hint as to what was happening.

  “I’m sure it’s nothing,” she said.

  “Bullshit,” Milo muttered.

  The light swung from side to side as the room shook again. There was another sound, like thunder swirling around their space.

  As the third boom descended on their room, the light went out completely.

  There was a scattered shriek and a whimper from either side of the room. Simon bit his tongue and reached for Benjamin’s arm. He needed someone near him. There was no way he was doing this alone, not again. “Everyone, stay where you are,” Marie said.

  The room was pitch dark. Simon lifted his hand and couldn’t see even the faintest outline of his fingers. There was a creak from the other side of the room.

  “Are you hearing that?” Dennis said.

  “Shh!” Lila said.

  The door clanged from the other side and thunked as each lock was undone. He squeezed Benjamin’s arm even harder.

  It swung open, and there was a pair of footsteps that pounded into the room.

  “Hey! Who are you!” Dennis screamed out.

  “Be quiet,” Milo whimpered.

  The door slammed behind them with a clang. “Where is Simon Archer?” one of the voices boomed.

  Simon gripped tighter to Benjamin and buried his head to hide from the mysterious men. Benjamin squeezed his arm back.

  “Where is he?”

  A pillar of light appeared from a flashlight. They pointed the light directly at the ceiling and illuminated every craggy cement crack on its surface. They flung the flashlight around the room. Lila had her head down and cradled her face in her shaking hands. They slid the light around the wall. He could feel its heat as it neared him.

  Benjamin pulled him in even tighter as the light fell over his body and stayed. It was blindingly bright and stung even through his closed eyes. “Get him,” one of the voices said to the other.

  Two strong arms grabbed his jacket and pulled him off the floor. Benjamin held on as long as he could, but the man was stronger. “Stop!” Simon said as he fought against the invisible attacker who pulled him up to his feet.

  He wriggled and tried to get out of the grip.

  “Let him go!” Dennis shouted.

  “Don’t hurt him,” Lila said quietly.

  He could hear Milo whimper in the corner. All he wanted was to get back on that floor. He hit the man’s shoulder and chest with his fists as hard as he could. He kicked and pushed, but made no headway. As hard as he fought back, he was being pulled out of the room. He grabbed at the door on the way out and his fingers briefly gripped it before being yanked away. With one last push, he was out the door, and it shut behind him.

  He got the briefest glimpse of a barren warehouse hallway and the face of the man holding him, a burly weightlifter type with a short beard. There was another person there, a sweet looking middle-aged woman with a black turtleneck and long red hair that ran down her back. She looked over at the man and gave him a nod. The man lunged at Simon and yanked his arms behind his back like he was under arrest. He swiftly knotted a rope around his wrists and pulled it so tight he could feel his fingertips tingling.

  “Where are you taking me?” he said as he tried to pull his hands out of the ties.

  With a flip of her head, she motioned him to begin walking. Even if he wanted to run, his legs shook so hard he was afraid he’d fall if he dared take a step. The man poked him in the back with his fist. “Walk.”

  “I can’t,” he said.

  The man rolled his eyes. “Go.”

  He tried to move forward, and his knees felt wobbly, like Bambi taking his first steps.

  The woman spun around. She was already twenty feet in front of them and seemed to have no interest in waiting. “Walk, or he will carry you.”

  Simon forced his feet forward. When he got back to that room, the others were going to have questions. Every detail was important and he forced himself to look, really look, at where they were taking him.

  Every few feet they entered another room and moved through another set of locked doors. The woman swiped her card and typed a code before the doors slid open. They walked through identical fluorescently lit rooms with no windows or exits, except through the heavy locked doors.

  “Almost there,” she said in a reassuring voice.

  It was impossible to remember all the steps and turns. A left, then a right, then another left... or was it straight? And the codes—he tried to figure out the code to the doors. As soon as he had established that she typed 9453 into one door, it was 4324 in the next.

  They stopped in a small room, no bigger than a doctor’s waiting room, but with the dank darkness of a locker room in a power outage. She pointed to a small chair by the door. “Sit. And wait.”

  Eduardo threw him into a chair and re-tied his hands with thick leather straps. The first thing he saw was the turtleneck-clad woman holding a folder out in front of her. She sipped at a glass of water as he struggled to make sense of where they had taken him.

  They were in a stark conference room with a small table in the middle. There were no windows in here either, just the omnipresent hum of an air conditioner above them. The burly man stood by the door with his hand hovering over his belt. Simon could see the faint glimmer of his gun peeking out over the top of his pants.

  She slid the glass of water across the table. “You must be thirsty.”

  His throat burned, and every cell in his body wanted that water, but he knew better. He knew that was just shifting the power. Edwin had done this to him constantly. He’d deprive Simon of food for days and then, out of the blue, a plate of Big Macs and a tall glass of lemonade would appear at the door. He was just a stupid kid, and he was hungry.

  “No, I’m good,” he answered.

  She let the glass sit there, taunting him. “Very well.”

  “What am I doing here?”

  All she did was smile and stare straight at him as she opened the blue file folder in front of her.

  “Seriously. Do you want money or something? I don’t have any money.”

  He pulled at the restraints and they seemed to get tighter and tighter with each yank. Already his fingers tingled and felt numb.

  “No, Mr. Archer. That’s not it at all.”

  “Then what? What do you want?”

  She flipped over a page and began to read. “June 15, 1998: Simon Archer, 15, declared missing in Peteville neighborhood. June 19, 1998: Search for Simon Archer gains hundreds of supporters. June 22, 1998: Family of missing teenager pleads on Good Morning America.” She looked up for a brief second, almost seeking permission to continue. She didn’t seem to care, however, if he gave it or not.

  “June 25, 1998: New clues in Archer case. Police search the greater Santa Clara County. June 26, 1998: Body of boy found in river, not Simon Archer. Trail running cold, say police.”

  He’d heard enough. “Please. Stop.”

  She continued. “July 4th, 1998: Missing Peteville boy found. Edwin Harpton charged. July 6th, 1998: Simon Archer still in area hospital and cooperating with police.”

  “Why are you doing thi
s?” he said. He dug his fingers into the arms of the chair until he could feel his nails bleed.

  She shut the folder with a gentle flutter. “We know who you are, Mr. Archer. We know all about you. We know your injuries, what you said to your therapists, to your lawyers, to your parents. We know every step you’ve ever taken and every step you were ever going to take.” Her mouth turned from a smile to a pursed sneer that slithered across her face.

  “How do you...?”

  “It doesn’t matter how. It just matters what we do next.”

  They knew he’d lied. They knew what he’d done.

  “Relax,” she said. “Have some water.”

  He couldn’t. “No, thank you.”

  She waved the burly man over to the table. “Eduardo. Please give Mr. Archer some water.”

  “No,” he said, “I don’t want any.”

  Eduardo came bounding over and opened Simon’s mouth with two fingers. His dirty nails dug into Simon’s gums as the contents of the glass spilled into his mouth. There was a strange metallic tang to the water. He tried to spit it out, but there was too much. To keep from choking, he had to swallow some. It burned all the way down.

  “We have a job for you, Mr. Archer.”

  She slid a piece of paper across the table. “This is Brianna Powell. You know her?”

  “Of course I do.” Brianna was the youngest daughter of the governor. She’d just gotten into Stanford and was going to be living three blocks away from his mother’s house. They’d been getting notices all summer about it.

  “She’ll be in town tonight.”

  “Okay? Why do I need to—”

  She placed the piece of paper on the table and pointed to Brianna’s face. “We want her dead.”

  He heard them wrong, he had to have. “You what?”

  “And you will do it.”

  “What?” He couldn’t believe what she was saying.

  “Do I need to repeat myself?”

  “No. I heard you. I can’t do that.”

  “Yes, you can, and you will.”

  “No, I won’t.” She moved the picture closer to his face. Brianna was beautiful, even in the grainy newspaper shot. There was no way.

  “I thought we might have this problem.” She turned to Eduardo. “Please bring me the other folder.”

  “This is ridiculous. Why do you need me? This is insane. You are insane.” She simply smiled as Eduardo walked from the back of the room holding a yellow folder. After she had grabbed it from his hands, she pulled out a pair of papers.

  On one sheet was a diagram of a human heart in bright colors. Along the side of the picture was a small metal device whose long tail ran along the entire left hand surface and hovered above the heart. “What is that?” he asked.

  “That is the device we installed in you. In all of you, in fact. It’s our little way of keeping tabs on you.”

  “What are you talking about? I don’t have that...”

  Eduardo took the opportunity to stand behind Simon and rip open his shirt. He looked down and saw the scar that ran down the side of his chest. It didn’t hurt, and he wasn’t even sore. “When did you do this?”

  She scrunched her nose. “Oh, I don’t know. When was it Eduardo... a week ago?”

  “A week? Jesus,” he muttered. He’d already been gone for a week? His mother must be losing her mind. She’d barely survived the last time he’d gone missing. All he wanted was to call her and tell her that he was okay.

  She slid a small remote across the table. It had just one button. “If you do what we ask, you will return and no one will hurt you. If you do not, I press this button. When I press this button, the muscles of your heart will begin to spasm uncontrollably. If I press it again, you will survive. If I do not, you will be dead in a matter of minutes. Do you understand?”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  She lowered her eyes. “Do you want a demonstration?”

  If they were lying, he could leave. But, if she was telling the truth...

  There was a good chance she was bluffing. Edwin had done that constantly. He’d said he’d kill Simon’s parents and burn down their house if he made any noise. He’d also said he had guns all through the house and wouldn’t have a problem hurting Simon if he tried to get help. After he got out, the police never found a single weapon, except for the kitchen knife he’d used to force Simon into his car in the first place. No one was ever in any danger.

  He could have left the first day. Even with a broken ankle and a concussion, he was stronger than Edwin ever was. It was the fear that kept him from acting. They were relying on his fear.

  “Yes,” he said. “I do.”

  She folded her arms and sat back in her seat. “Very well.”

  He gripped the chair as hard as he could and readied himself for the shock. If he could get through this then he was one step closer to getting home. He had to show these people that he wasn’t gullible and that he saw through their ploy.

  She clicked the button and immediately he felt a flutter in his chest which quickly moved to a stabbing pain. He reached for a breath, but it would not come. The room went from vibrant to grey to black in a matter of blinks. Before he knew it, Simon’s heart had stopped.

  He opened his eyes to see the woman still sitting across from him with the remote on the table. Eduardo’s finger was on Simon’s neck to check for his now rapidly beating pulse. His chest was sore, and it was nearly impossible to catch his breath.

  “You will meet her at eight o’clock at the Alibi Lounge. She may have a bodyguard, but they are there to get rid of paparazzi.”

  Eduardo propped him back up to a seated position. “They’ll be everywhere. How am I supposed to get to her?” he groaned.

  “Not my problem.”

  He could hardly see straight, much less comprehend the enormity of what she was suggesting. “I can’t do this.”

  She smiled. “I just need you to take care of the girl. You need to get her to the car.”

  “What if I get caught? What if they throw me in jail?”

  She lifted up the remote and shook it. “You won’t go to jail, honey. We’ll make sure of it.”

  He gulped down the lump forming in throat. He had thousands of questions to ask and no more energy to ask them. These people weren’t a fifty year old neighbor with a drug problem, and he wasn’t going to be able to talk himself out of this one. “Can I ask you something?”

  “What?”

  “Why’d you say all the stuff, about the kidnapping and all that, if you’re just going to hit your remote thing? You know what I did. Why don’t you just use that instead?”

  She tapped her fingernails on the table to an unconscious beat in her head. “We wanted you to know that we know what kind of person you are. Eye for an eye, eh?”

  He felt like he was going to be sick. What he had done to Edwin was nowhere close to what this woman was asking of him. “I can’t. I can’t do this.” Simon could not see himself being able to do what she was asking of him. There was simply no way.

  “Yes, you can, Mr. Archer. That’s why we chose you. We know what you’re capable of. Now, Eduardo here will get you cleaned up and take you to the Alibi. You will be given a phone at that time. If you call anyone other than our number; we will not ask questions. You will be terminated. Do you understand?”

  He nodded. None of what she was saying felt like it was sinking in. Her words bounced off his skull and back onto the floor. Eduardo grabbed Simon’s hands and forced him to a standing position. His legs were weak, and he began to fall, bowlegged, to the floor. Eduardo slipped his arm around his body, and they walked down a long dimly lit hallway. His feet dragged on the ground as Eduardo lugged him down the never-ending corridor.

  Simon bit his lip hard to keep the panicky tears from bursting out of his body. This was it. This wasn’t something he could come back from. It was an impossible task that would leave him dead in the middle of some nightclub. He’d never see his mom or his sister
again, and they would have no idea what had happened to him. All they’d know was whatever story these lunatics told them.

  Eduardo’s grip grew looser as they walked. They passed by a number of doors and exits. There had to be a way out of here. He could leave. He could do it. He just needed to find the right time. Simon gained his footing and stood up straight and strong, and Eduardo let go completely. The moment his hand left, Simon spun around and began to run.

  “Hey!” Eduardo screamed.

  He sprinted as fast as his compromised body would allow. His chest ached and his leg muscles burned with each step. He hadn’t eaten since he’d woken up and his strength was nowhere near strong enough to maintain the pace but still, he moved.

  Eduardo’s feet pounded behind him. He was getting closer and closer.

  “There’s nowhere to go!” Eduardo screamed.

  He didn’t care. He had to try.

  There was a swipe at the back of his neck. Eduardo’s fingers grazed his shirt collar and slipped away.

  He kept running.

  The fingers came again, but this time they hooked under his collar. In one swift pull, he went from upright and running to dangling by his shirt in Eduardo’s hand.

  “Let’s go,” Eduardo said as he grabbed Simon’s arm in a vice-like grip and threw him on the floor. The wall broke his fall, and he felt the side of his head ram against the concrete.

  His hand came back dripping with blood as he tapped the spot that ached. “Why’d you do that?”

  Simon tried to lift himself up, but Eduardo’s foot pushed him back to the floor.

  “Don’t get any ideas, all right? They aren’t fans of second chances out there.”

  There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to go.

  “Eh, Rick, he’s here.” They stood against the wall of a small room lit by faded dim bulbs that surrounded a mirror and that had streaks from corner to corner. A small dresser, filled with scissors and bottles of unidentifiable liquids, sat in front of the mirror.

  “What is this place?”

  “Will you just shut up?” Eduardo said.

  From the corner, a small man in a blousy dress shirt and jeans came out from the shadows.