Chapter 2

Chapter Two 

Logan Novak 

F.D.A.P (Fort Daniel Army Personnel) Military Base

Location: Classified

As the HH-60 Air Force Helicopter lands on the bases' tarmac, I gaze around at my surroundings. The base is enclosed by miles of forest, seeming to have no contact with civilization. A number of soldiers run along the road that's been used for training, as others sit in groups, probably on a break. Grabbing my army duffle bag, I jump off the helicopter and unto the ground, and Chris follows suit.

Seeing the familiar ambiance, I can't help but miss being away from this base for so long. Everything seems just as I'd left it. Soldiers stop in their tracks to stare at us, but I choose to ignore them, my goal on arriving at the briefing room as fast as I possibly can. The quicker we find the location of Ms. Anderson, the faster I get to go home.

A soldier walks up to us, "Commander Novak," she greets me, then turning to Chris, she continues, "Lieutenant Grant, welcome to the F.D.A.P base. I've been given orders to direct you both to the controls room where the General is awaiting your presence."

She immediately leaves, and we follow her to the controls room. Chris keeps his gaze on her backside, and I chuckle, looking at my best friend in disbelief. He turns to look at me, shrugs and returns his gaze to the woman's derriere.

The General is standing in the centre of the controls room when we enter, being surrounded by Soldiers typing away on the computers before them. He looks at the monitors, hoping to hear some good news about his daughter.

"Commander Novak, thank you for being here," Anderson greets, but I know it's taking all of his strength to stand in the room full of his fellow soldiers as they try finding his daughter's location.

"General Anderson." I shake his outstretched hand, "I'm happy to be of service to you. I know this must be difficult."

He nods. "I need all the help I can get."

I nod, turning to the front screen. The 100 inch monitor shows a series of traffic cameras of the familiar streets of New York City, and I realize that they're still trying to find something that will indicate a possible suspect.

"Any leads?" Chris asks as he too looks at the screens. They don't seem to be following a specific car via the traffic cameras, which can only mean that they have no idea what they're actually looking for.

"Nothing," Anderson sighs. "No one has called to do any negotiations. It's already been 36 hours since she went missing."

I frown. Kidnappers normally wait until twenty-four hours have passed to place their call and begin negotiations. They haven't reached out to demand anything? What are they waiting for? They must have a lot of patience to have not placed a call to her father. In those hours, she could be hurt, or worse-

"Any suspects?" I ask the general himself. He probably has some form of enemy that he would best be able to remember. Why else would they kidnap his daughter? A man's weakness is his family.

"I've taken down too many terrorists and drug cartels over the years to remember any of them vowing revenge," he replies, a faraway look in his eyes. "Most people I could think of, are either dead, or in a state prison."

I nod. That's true. For the years I'd been on the force, I'd also taken down countless criminals. If something like this occurred, I'd never be able to remember who it was. However, thinking about Anderson's daughter, I can't help but question her kidnapper's motives. Why her? Could it be that they couldn't get close enough to the General that they would go after his daughter? What do they think to gain from her? It's not like her father would tell her any Classified Intel of the United States Army. And she'd moved away from home years before. She didn't seem to be so bothered about her dad's occupation.

"What about security guards?" I questions, curious to find out if my views are correct.

He chuckles. "She absolutely hates that. I tried that once, and she didn't speak to me for about a month."

I nod. So she does hate the idea of being monitored. My assumptions were accurate. That would explain her living a quiet life, having her own business, and living on her own. Another woman would've loved that sort of life, using all this to her advantage; an influential father, public exposure.

"What about the squad?" I asked. "Have they arrived?"

"Yes. You may leave if you want to. If anything surfaces, I'll let you know."

I nod, and Chris and I leave the controls room.

~**~

We walk across the mini-pack where we're greeted by the members of the squad. The eleven men, including Chris that I'd trusted with my life. We'd been complete strangers, but had become so close at the end of the years. It was expected. When you got to see someone every day, you tend to get accustomed to their presence. On the force, you can't have enemies- especially the people on your squad. Having each other's back is the most important rule, and one that we've always embraced.

A grin spreads across my face as I see the familiar faces. We held a record for the longest serving members for 3 years in a row. We'd never lost any team mates, always doing our missions as efficiently as possible. I'd like to take the credit as their commander, however, it should rightfully be given to the soldiers who had trained us.

"Bloody hell. It's Logan Novak."

Anthony 'Toni' Hernandez is the first to greet me. The man surely knows how to handle his weapons- especially knifes, and anything sharp, or pointy. The contrast however- he's also our squad's medical expert. Imagine the man who can cause you unthinkable pain, is the exact same man who has to stich you up, bringing you back to health.

We go around greeting our fellow squad members, each unique in their area of expertise- Ryan Smith: pilot and assistant communications expert; Nolan Young: weapons and equipment controller; Max Wilson: explosives expert; Tyler Allen: technological and computer science expert; Isaac Moore: artillery; Kenny Williams: senior communications expert; Chase Johnson: sniper, and detachment front-man; Micah 'Mike' Lee: topographer and land surveyor; Ian Garcia: electronics and assistant technological expert.

Chris and I had been trained for combat and artillery, and were experts in the field. However, everyone on the squad were all amazing at combat. It's something that is absolutely mandatory, to be able to defend oneself against the enemy. I'd fought alongside these men on every mission. We'd gotten so close to seeing death on so many occasions. However, we managed to make it out alive.

"So still no sign of the girl?" Ryan Smith asks.

"No," I say. "There might be word soon. They would never kidnap her with no reason."

They all nod. We'd rescued way too many hostages to not know their kidnappers motives. There was always something to gain. However, finding out the reason for their actions, was always a different story.

Toni, the hulk of our squad adds, "I came here for action. You know me, I like going on missions," he says.

"So why did you retire from the force?" Chris asks, causing us all to laugh.

Toni frowns. "You know my wife. She likes me home where she can keep an eye on me. My kids are growing up, and being dead would be of no use to my family."

Hearing my friend talk about his family, and having kids, I frown. I didn't even have the slightest thought about settling down. Besides, what's the point? My parents have been married for 27 years, and they're still madly in love with each other. I knew from my mom that dad was a player before they met, and he changed for her. Maybe that would be the case for me.

Settling down, and having a wife didn't sound too bad. What I would never be able to give up is my freedom. This life has benefited me for a while. I didn't need a clingy wife at home, calling to check up on me, or monitoring my every movement.

"How's your company getting along?" Chase Johnson asks.

"Good actually. Better than I expected." They'd all known about my family, and the billion dollar company that was associated with its name. I was also adored by the paparazzi so there's no questioning who I am. Having a lot of money exposes you to the public.

We go on and on, talking about the last three years. Most of the guys were married, leaving the rest of us as 'heartless' bachelors- so to speak. It was fun being around these guys again, but I'd prefer it be under more fortunate circumstances.

We were all worried about the General's daughter, hoping that she's okay. Those who were married with kids felt resentment towards whoever had kidnapped Ms. Anderson. Thinking about someone kidnapping my daughter in the future, didn't sit well with me either.

I couldn't imagine much, but I knew that whoever dared touch my kid would be six feet under- and fast.

~**~

Khloe Anderson

As I regain consciousness from a timeless lull of oblivion, my eyes tiredly sprung open, widening at my surroundings. I lay on what seemed to be a mattress in a room totally unfamiliar to me. 'Not my apartment' I thought.

Then suddenly, scenes which could only be memories kept running through my mind- leaving my shop, meeting the men in my apartment, the tape...

Oh, no!

The room seemed deserted, apart from myself, the mattress, a table and two chairs. Moving around on the mattress, it felt like it had seen brighter days. I could feel holes along the surface. The sheet appeared clean and was still in good condition. However, I couldn't trust it. I couldn't trust anything here- or anybody, for that matter. Terrible things could have occurred on the mattress' surface.

Standing to look closely at my surroundings, I frown at the sight of the room I'm being held in against my will.

The white coated walls were damaged, the paint flaky and unsightly, begging to be taken down. A door stood in the right hand corner of the room, and it was probably the only thing in 'good' condition. A three-legged table stood against the wall, the wood splintered, needing to be thrown away. Two white plastic chairs were near the table, probably unable to do much damage to my kidnapper, if I planned on escaping.

The room was dark, apart from a light-bulb hanging from electrical wires that wouldn't be considered safe. The bulb itself was on the verge of being blown, not seeming to be able to withstand the electrical voltage being directed to it.

What would be a 'room' was mostly a hazard, and I wanted to be anywhere but here. I wanted to scream for help, hoping someone, somewhere would hear me, and take me back to my apartment or my family. However, I didn't want my kidnappers to come barging in here. I didn't want to see any of them. I wish I was at my apartment asleep, or at my shop, baking.

I thought about recipes I'd wanted to try; anything to get my mind off my current situation. Maybe I should make quiche for a change. Fill them with meat, fish, chicken and pepperoni. Yes, a pizza-quiche might just turn out amazing. I'd have to hire someone who has more knowledge on its preparation. But I could. My business earns enough money to hire other staff.

I could expand.

I frowned at my thoughts. I didn't have to expand. My business, Khloe's Delights, already occupied a two story building, and a number of rooms were not in use. The catering business and all the other offices were on the top floor, leaving the bakery, shop, sitting area and washroom on the ground floor. Therefore, we didn't need to find more space. We had enough space, and we would for a while. I'd rented the building when I'd realized I had to move from the shop's previous location. I'm still saving up to complete the actual purchase of the property, but with the amount, it would take some time, that I certainly had enough of.

'But you're here- now,' my subconscious reminded me.

It's true. Would I ever get out of here? Dad has to be coming, right? He would never leave me here. He would fight tooth and nail to have me back where he can keep an 'eye' on me.

All the things I'd pushed aside for all these years were resurfacing at the same time. It's like I'd been kidnapped to think about my life; my choices. However, I knew that wasn't the case.

I didn't have a boyfriend to go back to if I did survive here. My best friend Alyssa moved to Chicago when we were in college. Her dad got transferred to another branch of the law firm he worked in, and was promoted to manager. We kept in contact over the years, and she visited when she could. My mom and brothers live in Boston, and my dad was always away on some Army related business.

The close friends I have in New York are those I work with- my staff. They would notice my absence. I was supposed to arrive at work early in the morning to cater for a birthday party later tonight.

Shit! I couldn't even determine the exact time at the moment. Was it morning? Afternoon? Night? No form of light from outside illuminated the room, only heightening my suspicions that the room I occupied must be located in the centre of whatever building I was being kept in.

Whenever situations like this occurred in movies, it's always necessary that the victim kept calm. I'd seen people die by struggling, or screaming. I didn't want that to be my fate. I had a lot planned for my future. Like meeting a guy, falling in love, getting married and having kids. However, life didn't necessarily turn out how you planned it.

The noise of a doorknob rattling caught my attention, and I shrunk into the darkness of the room. Maybe they wouldn't see me. Maybe they would leave.

A man entered the room, a tray in his hands. His face was covered in a black mask, his hands with leather gloves as were the men in my apartment.

I thought of my chances of making a run for safety. If I did try to escape, I wasn't sure I'd make it past him. If I did reach outside, I have no idea of my current location. Also, what if it isn't only two of them? Two men had been at my apartment, but dozens could be here in this godforsaken building.

"Enjoy your breakfast," he said, in an unfamiliar voice. So, it wasn't only two of them. I would never forget the voices of the men in my apartment. They would be imprinted in my brain for as long as I shall live.

Thinking back to his words, I frown. So, it is morning time. Is it Saturday or Sunday? How long have I been here? Twelve hours? Twenty-four? I wasn't sure. If it's Saturday, I would've been here for a few hours. However, Sunday would be more than 24 hours. I didn't want it to be the latter of the two options. I'm not looking forward to staying here for a long time.

'But you'll have no choice if no one came to your rescue.' Here goes my dreams and my hope, I thought. My subconscious was being a bitch, and I didn't appreciate it. Not one bit.

He leaves the room without a word, and I sigh in relief. No one wanted to be in the presence of their kidnapper. Terrible things could happen.

My stomach rumbles, adding sound to the otherwise silent room, and it's only then I realize that I'm hungry. Way to go, Khloe. You haven't eaten since 8 pm last night. Or was it the night before? This was all too confusing. I needed to ask someone for the correct day.

Standing and walking over to three-legged table, I froze at the contents of the plate- toast, scrambled eggs, sausages- and a glass of orange juice. My mouth watered at the sight before me. But then I thought about the potential presence of poison in the food, and how quickly I could die. Based on the type of poison, I would be dead within minutes; 2-3 to be exact. And I'll never leave here if I'm dead. They would do away with my body, and I would never get to say goodbye to my friends and family. I would be a mere memory.

Breathe Khloe. Breathe...

Being dead held no interest for me, and it would be no benefit to my dad if he was searching for me. So, making the toughest decision ever, I chose life instead of death and eternal oblivion. The human body could survive up to 21 days without food, so a few days wouldn't hurt me- so much.

'Keep lying to yourself', that voice was back again.

Deciding it was safer to be away from the plate of temptation, I returned to the mattress, taking a seat. However, the food's bountiful aroma didn't necessarily approve of my opinion. So maybe I couldn't exactly ignore what could possibly be my last meal. When else would I get to eat something?

My stomach grumbled...

So maybe they didn't plan on killing me. Why feed me to only kill me in the end? It would be a waste of money, if you'd asked me. They had to have bought the food, or the ingredients used to prepare it. Hands worked marvelously to prepare such a delicacy. However, I knew it was only my hunger talking. And I wasn't myself when I was hungry.

My stomach rumbled...

How long would I survive this hunger? This dilemma I'm in? I'd never experienced this before. Now, I realized how it felt to be starved, like all the children in those areas in the world. All the kids who have no idea where their next meal will come from.

My stomach protested...

If I could only think about something that didn't pertain to food. Fasting to keep my life couldn't be difficult, could it? But as I thought of sunsets, blue skies, and my family and friends, tables that were well stocked with food appeared, and my dreams and thoughts were crushed. Pancakes, pies, cupcakes, lasagna and bacon. Sausages, scrambled eggs, toast, orange juice...

I groaned in frustration, standing and heading towards the table. Taking a seat on one of the chairs, I picked up the plastic fork, and stabbing the eggs, I directed it towards my mouth.

God, save me!