Chapter 3
January 27, 1996
Edward Samuels could not open his eyes when he awoke and realized he was sitting up with both arms behind his back. Each passing second his senses gained clarity, starting with a shooting pain at the back of his head that pounded with each beat of his heart. A blindfold was around his head, which pressed against his temples, and he could feel his eyeballs thrust outwards with each throbbing pulse. His head was slumped over his chest, forcing labored breaths and uncontrolled drooling. The cold air burned his lungs, and his hands that were bound tight with rope, no longer had feeling. Unaware of where he was, Edward tried to remember what had happened.
He remembered leaving the store after buying a can of beans for dinner. It was all he could afford anymore. The parking lot was not well lit, and as he delicately stepped across the frosty surface, a navy blue Cadillac pulled up along side him. He noted the paint job had been a custom one and of poor quality. The windows had been tinted limo dark, except for one narrow strip the windshield at eye level.
Trying to ignore the car that honed in on him, Edward quickened his pace. He heard the electric window roll down, and out of the corner of his eye, saw the barrel of a 9mm Beretta. The wielder of the weapon took a deep drag from his cigarette, its glowing cherry tip giving Edward a quick glimpse of a scraggly bearded face.
“We need to talk, Edward.” The man said, his voice nasally from a head cold.
Edward looked around the parking lot, hoping someone would see him. It was late and only a few cars remained parked out front. It didn’t appear as if anyone was coming out anytime soon. The thought of running had crossed his mind, but there was nowhere to run.
The man could see Edward was weighing his options, and cocked the hammer back on the gun. Edward knew he was serious. “We just want to talk to you. Mr. Bronkoni thinks you might have forgot about paying the interest you owe him.”
Edward, knowing he had no other options, breathed a heavy sigh before climbing into the back seat. He didn’t even get the seat belt on before feeling a heavy thud on the back of his head. The blow was so hard that he bit his tongue. He listened as the sound of the engine grew silent and the headlights faded from sight. Edward slumped forward in the seat. He was unconscious.
***************
January 14, 2000
Ryan Grogan sat at his desk, staring out the picture window, and watched as the last tint of orange and yellow faded out of sight. Night approached quickly in the town of Roston. Snow-capped mountains surrounded it, and the evening sun would fade over the horizon during the winter months long before six p.m.
“Good night, Mr. Grogan.” The janitor said as he was leaving for the night.
“’Night Harry,” Ryan replied, and returned to the large stack of papers littered across his desk.
He lifted his coffee cup, preparing to take a sip out of the freshly filled mug, when a gust of wind blew several papers off his desk. Ryan’s eyes looked around the room, but he didn’t move. He thought it was odd that a window would be left open in the middle of winter. Searching the room quickly, he found all of the windows sealed tight.
He sat down to retrieve the fallen papers when another gust of wind came, tipping his coffee cup over the edge of the desk. Ryan wondered if it was caused by one of the ceiling fans. He looked up, and found them motionless. In fact, they hadn’t moved in quite some time. It was evident by the layers of dust, resting upon the blades.
Ryan was tired, but still knew what was going on. Marcus had played another practical joke on him. Hooked some sort of magnet, or who knows what to his cup. He was going to get Marcus back. The only question was how?
He pondered over the thought while he stepped into the bathroom and grabbed a handful of paper towels. Standing in front of the mirror, he started wiping off the spatters of coffee from his tie. Ryan didn’t notice at first, but the windows were fogged over. He found the sight quite unnerving, considering no one had showered at work that day, and there was no humidity in the air reminiscent of a hot shower. He leaned forward to swipe a finger across the mirror, when suddenly, a sharp pain in his right ear startled him. It was reminiscent of the pain he had experienced months before in the left ear. Placing his middle finger on the outside of the ear canal, Ryan could feel tears welling up in his eyes. He looked around the bathroom as if searching for answers, or some form of help. It was all he could do to stumble out of the bathroom and plop down in the chair at his desk.
Disoriented, Ryan tried to stand back up, but promptly sat down when his stomach began to churn. Droplets of sweat formed on his brow, and his face went flush. A cold sweat broke out all over his body and he laid his forearm across the desk, resting his forehead upon it. His mouth salivated while his tongue reflexively curled upwards. Sympathy coughs rattled his lungs. It was only a matter of time before he would vomit, but he fought the urge, as well as the pain in his ear, for fifteen agonizing minutes.
The throbbing in his ear, turned to a ringing sound, and then fluctuated between both ears. The nausea had ceased and Ryan sat up to gain his bearings. He looked down to see his cell phone moving across the table. Grabbing hold of it, Ryan realized that it was the buzzer function, and the phone was in fact, ringing. The lights on the desk phone blinked for an incoming call on line one. Ryan frantically grabbed at his ears, hysteria was beginning to set in. It was a sobering moment when realized that other than the ringing sound in his ears, he could no longer hear.
