Hold On! - Season 1 (21 page)

Excruciating Payne

Belinda’s eyes darted around the interior of the disused gas station. Her breathing was rapid, almost causing her to black out. Payne was most likely preparing something unthinkable in the back room.

Having only one pair of handcuffs, he’d bound her to the dusty wooden work bench with ropes. She pulled with all her might against them, which caused a constricting pain in her wrists.  She thought if she could loosen even one of her hands she may have been able to pull it free and then untie the other. Once her hands were released, she could then untie the ropes binding her ankles to the dusty wooden work bench.

But it was no use. Payne was an experienced professional, and she quickly realized she had no chance of escaping.

She heard his every move coming from the room behind her. Every shuffle echoed like a prophecy of doom.

Her tears continued to fall with persistence. Thoughts of Brandon filled her mind, and how much she’d grown to love him in such a short space of time. Now he was gone. She’d seen him die with her own eyes. He’d been so extraordinary; a soldier of the most moral kind, and one who had saved her life repeatedly. She felt certain there was no other man for her after him. All that remained of him were her memories, and even they
were now threatened.

Payne was going to kill her. Of that she had no doubt. But she also knew he was going to torture her first. Through her unbearable sadness, she was going to be subjected to intolerable pain, and even if she relented, she was going to die anyway. Payne wanted the money and nothing was going to stop him from doing whatever he could to force her to reveal its location.

She heard footsteps coming closer from the back room and shivered.

“This is going to be extremely unpleasant,” Payne said in a calm and professional manner. “However, you must appreciate that you leave me with little choice.”

Weeping, Belinda tried to speak, but her words were barely more than a whimper. “W-what are you going to do to me?”

“Excuse me?”

She didn’t repeat it.

He came round to the front of her and knelt down, his demeanor assuming an almost-sympathetic front. “Now, please. Let me help you. If you tell me where the money is, I swear I won’t hurt you. I’ll let you go and that’ll be the end of it.”

Consumed with terror, she was sorely tempted to tell him what he wanted to know. What would it have mattered if she told him the location of the money? Brandon had no need of the cabin any longer.

But it was about so much more than that. The cabin was where she had been the happiest she’d ever been. It was a paradise. She remembered the night she’d made love to Brandon for the first time. They both believed he was losing his virginity in front of the log fire, with the snow falling outside the window. There had been nothing but frozen wilderness all around them. She now knew he probably hadn’t been a virgin,
but neither of them knew that at the time. The absence of that knowledge enhanced the moment for them in a way that could never be duplicated. They were not only in ecstasy together, but they were safe. Nobody could have found them. They were untouchable.

On the night they returned from Los Angeles to find Treadwell sitting in the living room, the dream was shattered. But within minutes, hope was restored as they watched the monster destroy himself. The cabin was still there, safe from predators.

She resigned herself to the belief she was going to die, regardless of what she revealed or didn’t reveal. But perhaps
, just perhaps
, she would be reunited with her one and only love on the other side. Maybe they could return to their utopia and live there together for eternity. Just on the chance it might happen, she was not going to permit Payne to take it away from them.

She closed her eyes and tried to forget her fear. She focused on thoughts of being with Brandon in the cabin. It wasn’t a case of whether or not she believed it. She
had
to believe it. It was all she had to cling to.

It was all or nothing as far as Payne was concerned, and the more she refused to talk, the more desperate he became. He was a wanted man facing either life in a federal prison, or the death penalty. His only means of escaping was to find the money and disappear, perhaps to Panama. “Talk to me and this will all come to an end,” he said.

Belinda didn’t respond. Her eyes remained closed with the subtle hint of a euphoric smile edging from the corners of her mouth.

Payne raised his right hand to her face and waved three slender, sharpened wooden sticks, a little larger than toothpicks. “Do you know what these are?”

She didn’t answer, react, or even open her eyes.

“These are crude, but effective in inflicting extreme pain, Belinda,” he said with continual, chilling calmness. It wasn’t the first time he’d interrogated another human being in this way.

He grasped her right hand. “I am going to ask you once more. Where is the money?”

Belinda remained static. Payne considered the possibility that she’d slipped into catatonia, but he wasn’t about to allow that to impede his task.

He dipped his hand into the side pocket on his denim jacket and took out an electric stun baton. As he squeezed the two sides together, an arc appeared. “OK.” He touched the arc to her chest where the skin was exposed between the buttons of her blouse. The shock tore through her and her eyes opened involuntarily. He knew the pain was horrific, but no sound emerged from her. Her entire body froze and her arms and legs were useless. He grasped her shoulders in order to keep her body steady on the bench. “Now, I hope that got your attention.”

She lost consciousness. Five minutes passed before Payne noticed she was beginning to stir. “Ah, I see you’re with me again. Now, let’s try it again. Where’s the money?”

Once again, she refused to answer.

“My, my, you are tenacious, aren’t you?” He showed one of the sharpened sticks to her again. “The correct method of using these is somewhat of an art. It’s always been a specialty of mine. I must say, I find the procedure most enjoyable.”

He took Belinda’s right hand and grasped her index finger. Carefully, he placed a wooden spike underneath her fingernail. “One last time. Where’s the money?”

She didn’t answer.

He gently pressed against the spike, easing it under the nail knowing that almost immediately, the pain would send signals screaming through her nerve endings.

She cried out a bellow of harrowing agony. Gradually, he forced it farther into her until her cries became a squeal of unbearable anguish. Perspiration fell from her brow, and blood dripped from her fingertip onto the dust-laden ground.

“Where’s the money?”

Repeatedly, he forced the spike into her. She’d never known such excruciating pain, but she continued to keep the vision of being with Brandon in the cabin at the forefront of her mind.
The pain will lead to the cabin
.
This bastard will not take our afterlife from us.
She was now more certain than ever that her life was over.

The image of Brandon holding her in his powerful, gentle arms as they soared away from the Carringby building on that first night, flashed before her eyes. In her mind, she was no longer afraid as she glided five hundred feet above ground with him. It appeared as a fairy tale to her. He was Peter Pan and he was flying her away to Neverland. He was Superman and she was Lois Lane, flying through the clouds to the snow-covered mountains.

And then there was Snooky the bear, the beautiful little furry creature that was so entrancingly linked to Brandon and the cabin. He was waiting for them, standing on hind legs, beckoning her, welcoming her home.

She tried to latch onto what Brandon had said to her as they stepped off the edge of the roof, but the pain of the spike impeded her train of thought.

Hold on!
It came back to her.
Yes
.
That’s what I must do
.
Hold on! Hold on!

Payne grasped her forefinger and inserted the second spike under the nail. She screamed for only a moment before her endurance gave out. As her consciousness slipped away again, her lips mouthed the words, “Hold on.”

“Fuck!” Payne stood in frustration and released her hand. He searched his mind for other extraction techniques, realizing she had a will of titanium. He’d interrogated soldiers—
warriors
—who were not as resilient as she was.

Without care or grace, he tore the spikes from underneath her nails. The shock of the terrible, stinging pain revived her momentarily, but she was notably senseless.

He walked out the back and found the bathroom. There was a faucet and sink still attached the back wall, but he knew the water would be turned off. Soiled rags and rotted towels were strewn across the filthy floor.

Scanning the area, he noticed a large bucket of liquid in the corner. He strode over to it, knelt down, and smelled what was in it. It wasn’t gasoline, but from the stench, he deduced it was merely stagnant water. He glanced at the ceiling and noticed where the water had come from. There was a hole in the roof directly above the bucket, where rain had fallen through. “Perfect.”

With the bucket in his hand, he collected a handful of the aged rags from the floor, and made his way back to Belinda.

The Window

Belinda watched in terror as Payne returned to her. He placed the bucket and rags on the floor, and looked around the gas station.

His gaze seemed to latch onto a heavy wooden table at the far side of the room. It appeared to be covered with dust, and severely scratched and battered. She thought it had probably found its way into the gas station when the place was being cleared out, probably in the 70s.

She followed his movements as he pulled the table into the center of the room. She had no idea what he was doing, or what it meant for her.

Closing her eyes again, she tried to lose herself in the dream of the cabin. The unbearable, tender pain in her fingertips continued to gnaw at her ability to concentrate.

She heard Payne walking toward her, but tried not to allow him to distract her from her beautiful vision: Brandon. The cabin. Snooky the bear . . .

The footsteps stopped. She listened as he picked up the bucket and rags and walked away again, but she soon heard him coming back.

Then his hands were upon her. She winced as he unbound her wrists with the cuff of his jacket sleeve brushing against her bleeding fingertips.

He untied her ankles and then grasped her under her armpits. Her body was severely weakened by the stun baton and the incredible agony in her fingers. He shook her by the shoulders. Her eyes opened for a moment, but closed just as quickly.

With the loose ropes in his hand, he picked her up, cradling her in his arms. Brandon had held her in the same way, and the thought of this beast carrying her as he had sickened her. Consequently, she was unable to hold back another burst of despondent tears.

Payne laid her on the table. Her back and head rested on the surface, and her legs fell over the bottom end at her waist. He pulled her arms down to the sides and bound her wrists to the table legs. As the blood rushed into her hands the sting in her fingertips sent shock waves coursing through her.

Finally, he bound her ankles to the table legs. He then took one of the dirty rags from the floor and folded it repeatedly.

Keeping her eyes closed, she knew Payne was leaning over her. She forced herself to believe she wasn’t there. She was still in the cabin with Brandon.

“Once more,” he said. “Where’s the money?”

She didn’t answer.

“All right, have it your way.” He bound the folded rag-towel around her head, across her mouth, nose, and eyes.

She was seized with the distinct sensation of being smothered. The stench of stale motor oil soared into her nostrils, and her heart pounded with exhausting persistence.
Is he trying to suffocate me?

A flood of liquid cascaded onto the rag, soaking her face and filling her mouth with the most rancid taste. She couldn’t understand it. The solid table was beneath her. But she was underneath an ocean of . . . what was it? Sewage? She couldn’t decide. Whatever it was, she was drowning in it. As much as she wanted to see Brandon on the other side, her lungs begged for air. She wanted to take a breath so badly, but couldn’t. The involuntary panic began, causing her body to convulse. Then the liquid stopped falling.

Payne grasped the rag, tore it away from her, and she lurched upward, choking.

“Waterboarding is the current torture of choice in intelligence circles. Personally, I find it quite tedious,” he said matter-of-factly. “Where’s the money?”

Belinda’s gaze
wandered across to the window on the right. It seemed so remarkable that it wasn’t broken or cracked considering the condition of the rest of the building. Light beamed through it, giving her a sense of the time of day. Mid-afternoon perhaps? She’d lost her sense of time.

“OK, let’s try it again.” Payne bound her face again and picked up the bucket. In a carefully controlled movement, he poured another steady stream onto her.

She was drowning in the sewage ocean again. She threshed in her bonds after only ten seconds. Mercilessly, he let her suffer it for another ten before stopping. He tore the rag away again and her head reached forward, vomiting forth the dregs of the terrible liquid.

“Where’s the money?”

Sputtering, she tried to take a deep breath before the next time, but he didn’t give her the opportunity. He tied the towel back around her head and resumed the insidious procedure.

Repeatedly, he tormented her with the stagnant water. Each time she was sorely tempted to reveal the location of the money. Anything for the torture to stop.
Every time he put her under, she focused on being in the cabin with Brandon, and that only by dying was she going to reach it. Such was the extent to which her terror had taken her. There was no other way but for her to welcome her death, and her own delusion.

The horror of being unable to breathe became so terrible she was losing sight of her fantasy. As Payne drew the towel from her face for the last time, the word automatically leaked from her lips, almost inaudibly. “C-cabin.”

He brought his ear to just above her mouth. “What did you say?”

As the air flowed into Belinda’s lungs, her resolve was restored. She wanted to be in the cabin with Brandon and that was all there was to it. “Go to hell.”

“Bitch!” he roared, and slapped her harshly across the face.

Her head twisted to the right under the force of the blow, and she saw the bucket was empty. His options were now exhausted.

He drew his pistol from its holster and
pointed it directly at
her forehead, his eyes wide with desperate rage. “Where’s the money?”

She looked into the barrel of the gun, but all she could see was Brandon and the cabin. A serene smile formed across her lips.

Payne slowly lowered the gun, slipped it into his holster, and stepped back slowly—as though a sinister thought had occurred to him. “As annoying as you are,” he said, “you’re a stunning-looking woman, and I don’t relish the thought of having gone to all this trouble for nothing.”

She hoped he’d just said that to scare her. But what if he hadn’t?
Oh, God, no.

He moved to the end of the table, unbound her ankles, unbuttoned her jeans and tore them down, followed by her panties.

Filled with dread, Belinda craned her neck to see what he was doing. He wasn’t bluffing. He intended to go through with it. “Please. I’m begging you. Don’t do this. Not
this
.”

Payne smiled and drew himself out.

Of everything he had done to her, this was, by far, the worst. In her heart, she knew that, under no circumstances, must any man touch her after Brandon. He was her one and only. The thought of this evil, raping piece of scum taking what was Brandon’s was beyond her ability to endure.

She watched as he spat on his palm and made a move to lubricate her. With his fingers inches away from her, she cried, “Stop! I’ll tell you where it is!”

He stopped abruptly and hurried around the table to her face again.

“You can kill me,” she said, weeping. “But please don’t do
that
to me. I’m begging you.”

“Where’s the money?”

“It’s in a cabin.” Her soul died in that moment, for she knew, in just a few seconds, she and Brandon would have no paradise to go to. Her only consolation was that she would still be his, and only his.

“What cabin? Where is it?”

She was about to answer when they were startled by a rustling noise coming from the roof. Payne looked up and drew the gun from his holster. “Who’s there?”

There was no reply.

“I said who the fuck is there?” He fired at the ceiling, causing a shower of dust to fall upon him.

Belinda screamed with all her might, “Somebody help me, please!”

Payne slapped his hand across her mouth. The silence continued and fear showed in his eyes.

The seconds ticked by and nothing happened. Nobody was outside and her brief moment of hope was shattered. They were inside an old gas station that was practically falling apart. It was inevitable there were going to be a few creaking sounds.

Payne seemed to have come to the same conclusion, and resumed the interrogation. “Now, where were we? Oh, yes. You were about to tell me where the money was.”

Suddenly, the remarkably-unbroken window on the right exploded into a million splinters. Two heavily-booted feet followed through to collide with Payne’s head, hurling him cleanly over the table. The assailant let go of the cable he’d swung through the window with and landed next to where Payne had fallen.

Belinda turned her head and gazed with wonder into the face of her rescuer. His clothing was torn and his face was cut, bruised, and blood-caked, but there was no mistaking who it was. She knew she wasn’t dreaming because she would never have dreamed
him
up in this condition. But how could it possibly be? “Brandon?” she said with a combination of shock, bewilderment, exhilaration, and above all, indescribable joy.

“Hi, honey. I’m sorry I’m late,” Brandon said
breathlessly. “I got held up.”