January 15th. . . .

I step out from the slightly shabby bathroom and into my room. Tossing my overstuffed backpack on the one bed, I walk around to the small tv in the corner of the room. Switching it on, I absentmindedly flip through the channels, only pausing long enough to make sure neither Casey nor my photo is on display on either of the various news channels.

Nope. Looks like Mr. Bubbles is keeping it between his people, and us.

Well, at least there's that-

My thoughts break off as there's the sudden loud noise of glass shattering behind me. I hardly get a chance to panic, none the less actually turn around to face the threat, before large arms are suddenly restraining me against a hard chest.

The remote drops from my hand like a brick as I automatically begin to struggle, my mouth opening to scream in warning to Casey across the hall. A large sweaty hand abruptly clamps around my mouth, containing my shout to just a muffled yell.

Fear squeezes my chest as a gag is suddenly slipped between the hand and tied in my mouth, a nasty, almost oily, tinge to it. There's suddenly a cloth bag pushed down over my head, the fear turning to raw, unrefined panic as my vision goes dark.

I frantically kick out with my hands and what I can of my arms, but whoever's holding me barely seems to notice my pathetic struggle. Two other hands grab my wrists, tying a coarse rope tightly around them, behind my back. I'm then lifted effortlessly up off from the ground and tossed over someone's shoulder like I'm nothing more than a child.

Oh crap. Am I getting. . . Kidnapped?

And judging by how fast and efficient they are, I'm just going to go ahead and assume these guys are professionals. Which can mean only one thing: Bubbles.

But how did they already find us? We're on the opposite end of town from where we did the research. It should've taken longer than ten hours.

There's the sound of glass being crunched underneath a booted foot as I'm carried out what I can only assume is the now broken window, a slightly chilly breeze catching me off guard.

I didn't even have time to put my jacket on. Damn inconveniences.

Oh my god! Casey! What if he comes charging out here? They'll get him too, or just kill him before he even realizes what's going on.

I frantically kick my kegs out like I'm in a desperate swim, my tied hands pounding against my own back. Yet nothing seems to faze this dude. I can tell we're now walking across pavement, a rancid odor souring the air as we, more than likely, pass a dumpster. I can hear other footsteps around me, alerting me to the fact that this guy has company, maybe four or five other guys.

Please don't tell me they've already snuck into Casey's room and killed him?! My god, I might hate him, but I never wanted him to die-

I'm suddenly dropped to the ground in a rush as a few shouts of surprise bark out around me, and my butt takes the full force of the fall, sending a shockwave of pain up my spine.

I ignore the pain, instead focusing on getting my breath back and wondering what the hell just happened to cause them to do that. I suddenly catch a noise like a low growl back from where I just came from, making goosebumps raise on my arms and neck.

I cower back against what feels like a van's bumper, restrained hands still tugging as I stare out at darkness, only small pinpricks of light getting through from the sun.

Another surprised shout echoes out from my right before its abruptly silenced by a resounding whack. I wince from the sound of skin smacking skin and bone, my raspy breathing hot against the fabric.

Quick, almost silent footsteps scuff the cement ground as they move around faster than what I believe is humanly possible. Sounds of fighting drift over my way; more skin smacking skin, a few snapping sounds, bodies dropping, labored breathing and panicked howls of pain.

Then, silence.

My stiff muscles clinch together, almost like they're expecting the same punishment that's befallen these men, fear still clamping down on my chest as the eerie stillness does nothing to calm my racing heart.

  I suddenly catch the sound of a foot scuffing the ground in my direction, then the cloth bag is carefully pulled off my head and I'm left staring into the concerned icy blue eyes of Casey.

The relief is almost instant. My body wilts, and I'm suddenly fully aware of the tears that are currently falling down my cheeks and the way my body seems to be trembling like I'm out in twenty degree weather with only a t-shirt.

Casey doesn't waste a second before expertly untying the knot on the gag and releasing me from the fowl fabric, giving me a good look at his bruised knuckles and bloodied hands that, surprisingly, have their own tremble in them.

My eyes snap back to the scene behind Casey, and my eyes unconsciously widen.

Five nicely dressed men, like before, lay sprawled out in various spots around what I now see is a small inclosed parking lot that's undoubtedly used mostly for the trash truck. Blood seeps out on the pavement around a few men while some look like a few of their limbs aren't attached correctly.

I feel bile rise up from my stomach at the gruesome sight, and I barely contain it. My attention snaps back up to Casey's face as he says my name, and I realize I've been completely untied.

I stare up at his almost perfect face that's currently marred with concern, a wild look far back in his eyes as they scan me, his breathing sounding even and controlled despite the way his chest rapidly moves up and down. His hair lays damp across his forehead, signifying that he's recently taken a shower.

"Can you stand?" He questions, sounding both rushed and anxious at the same time. I blink a few times, my mind still coming into focus. I nod, ignoring the throbbing on my backside as I push myself up into a standing position.

Casey holds my elbow as he assists me up, careful not to apply much pressure, as if he was afraid he'd break me.

Although, I'm beginning to think he could.

  My mind flashes back to yesterday morning, when he did practically the same thing to Bubbles and his men, the way he cracked my door handle like it was mere cheep plastic.

And that's when I have to remind myself that Casey isn't normal. That we're running from people that want to kill us, and Casey apparently escaped a laboratory that's supposed to have been abandoned for over forty years.

Oh god, this is messed up.

  He leaves me leaning up against the van I was undoubtedly gong to be wheeled off in to who-knows-where, walking a few feet to where he picks up my backpack I'd left on the bed no more than five minutes ago, along with my jacket I'd left hanging on the wall.

Walking back over to me, he slings the backpack over his right shoulder, stopping in front of me as he offers me my jacket. I slip my arm in as he holds it up for me to put on, forcing myself to stop shaking.

Once I zip my jacket up at the front, I look up to see Casey looking me over with cautious eyes before he turns around and gently reaches back, grabbing my hand, probably an unconscious and automatic reaction for him, yet I can't help but feel my heart miss a beat despite what just happened, before he begins to lead me away from the scene.

He pauses temporarily to wash his hands off under the tap that extends out from the brick wall of the motel. The water runs red a few seconds before he's turning it off and retaking my hand.

The unconscious men pass by in a blur as I suddenly find myself focusing intently on the feeling of his large, calloused hand wrapped around my smaller one, his heat like a furnace to my chilled skin.

Geez, Nora. Get your head out of the gutter already.

Coming back to myself, I find we're already down the street where we parked the mustang, stopped in front of the vehicle as Casey hesitates.

"Can you drive?"

Startled by his low voice, I snap my eyes up to his. Blinking a few times, I shake my head at myself, pulling my hand out from his.

"Of course," I say, already pulling the keys out from my jacket pocket and moving to the drivers side. "Besides, I'm not letting an amnesiac kid drive me around unfamiliar territory," I toss out, seating myself in the mustang behind the wheel.

Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I start the engine up and pull out into the street once Casey's seated himself.

A few minutes go by.

"So what exactly happened back there?" I question, keeping my gaze out the front windshield. Casey's silent for a minute. "I heard something going on in your room and I sme-" He cuts himself off, shaking his head like something is ridiculous. "Anyway, when I got there, you were being carried off towards that van, and, well, I'm sure you can figure the rest out."

I close my eyes, hearing the pounding and the yells once again like it's happening all over. 

I open my eyes back up. "But how? The way you. ." Casey looks away. "The way you took them down seemed too effective, something a pro fighter could only hope to achieve. And yet," I motion over to him, "a sixteen year-old amnesiac guy did it. That's not right."

Casey clinches his eyes shut, using his right hand to squeeze the bridge of his nose like he has a headache. I take a moment to really look at his face, only just noticing the deep purple bags beneath his eyes.

Did he sleep at all last night?

"I don't know," his eyes flash back open, an electric blue. "All I did was react. It was all. . . natural to me." He stares out the front windshield, his left hand moving over to rub a certain spot on his chest.

I pause as I catch a hint of a distant accent in his words, recalling how he first spoke French to me that day by the road.

"Alright," I relent. "No point in arguing. We might as well make some distance between us and here before we stop for breakfast." I pull off onto the highway, reaching over to flip the radio station on.

Casey remains quiet, eyes, distant and cold, staring out the side window.

*Time Skip*
Seven hours later. . .

"Casey, I'm going to just keep asking; are you okay?"

All I receive is a groan from his curled up position against the passenger side door, his forearms up over his face as he sucks in gulps of air.

So earlier, when he first started showing signs that he may not be feeling too good; headache, no appetite, I may not have cared very much.

But now, after already pulling off to the side of the road once so he could vomit, I'm beginning to feel a little concerned.

We'd traveled basically none stop from Boone, Iowa to our destination now; a small city just outside of Chicago, only stopping a few times for breakfast and bathroom breaks. And now, it's nearly 5:30 and neither of us have had any real substantial food since breakfast.

Not that Casey wants anything regardless.

I managed to snatch a bag of chips and water from a vending machine at a rest stop, but that's not even nearly enough food for me.

I reach over as I stop at a red light, ignoring the way Casey abruptly flinches away from my hand as I place it against his forehead that's sticky with sweat. I frown at the heat that's basically emitting out from his skin, a real pang of worry hitting me in the gut.

What if there's something really wrong with him?

My eyes land on a small motel in the distance, looking shabby enough that it might allow two teenagers to rent a room.

I'll just need a cover story.

"Casey, we're staying here for tonight, despite the fact I think you should seriously see a doctor."

Casey immediately lets a noise out. "No-"

"Yeah, yeah. No doctors." I hold my hands up, rolling my eyes. "I get it. . . Well, I don't, but whatever."

Pulling into a parking spot in the far corner of the lot, knowing Casey probably isn't up for walking, I quickly get out, moving over to his side. I grab my backpack and guitar out from the back, slinging them both on over my right shoulder.

Pulling the baseball cap down over Casey's head, I tug him up into a standing position. He teeters for a few seconds, face pulled into a grimace as his left arm stays firmly wrapped around his torso.

"Alright, pull it together for a few minutes and keep your head down." I tug his cap down lower so it covers his eyes, not even receiving an ounce of complaining from him. I wrap my left arm through his right, letting him practically lean on me as I head us towards the front door.

As soon as we step inside I can tell I picked a good cheep motel. A moldy smell floats in the air, and the rug on the floor has multiple different stains throughout it.

Casey abruptly sucks in a deep breath through his nose, his body immediately tensing before he manages to blow out a shaky breath, a shudder running through his body. I eye him, wondering what the heck he's doing?

But before I can think too hard on it, a clerk appears from behind a wall positioned back behind the large desk. He smiles, but I can tell it's forced as he takes the both of us in.

Who knows what we must look like. I can only imagine two teenagers leaning against each other as they practically stumble through the door.

Not my best image.

"Hello, how can I help you?"

I force Casey to walk forward, and I plaster a large smile on my face. "Hey. Me and my brother here were just passing through to meet our folks over in DC. And, as you can see, he's not feeling so great at the moment so we decided to call it a day."

He obviously doesn't buy the whole story, but after looking us both over again, eyes resting longer on Casey, he seems to accept it.

"And what room would you like?"

I shift my stance, pulling my wallet out from my back pocket. "One with two twins. Just for tonight."

I hope.

He nods, reaching behind him to grab a key off a hook. "Room 190." He hands me the key as I place the correct sum of money on the table. "Thank you kindly," I give him another charming smile, readjusting my hold on Casey before I lead him over to the right.

"And, ma'am?" I turn my head back to face him. "I recommend, that if your brother doesn't start to feel better soon, he visits the doctor down town."

Yeah. You and me both.

<<<Author's Note!!>>>

Hey all! I just want this to be short and sweet, so....

I hope y'all are enjoying the story so far?! I know it's kinda slow at the moment, but it'll pick up pace here soon. I promise! 👌🏻 Please Leave a comment! I'm always open for constructive criticism or just a nice word!

And PLEASE!! All I'm ask is for you to VOTE!! I know it might sound selfish that I keep asking you to do that, but votes are what gets my story out there! And if I don't get any votes, no one will ever find my story. Then I'll just get all depressed and give up on it completely....😣

SO! If you want this story to continue, please press the little star (it literally looks like this ⭐️) on the corner of your screen!

Maggy