.

.

"Run Shawn! I'll be fine! Get help!" is the last thing I here before my dad passes out.

The pounding of my heart and heavy breathing are the only things that occupy my ears now.

Pain and determination surge through my body, one telling me to stop, the other pushing me forward.

I trip several times, running in zig-zags in case I'm being chased. Tree limbs scratch my face, but I barely notice. I've got to get help.

Where's the damn road? I think to myself, almost screaming it.

I find it, dashing straight onto the pavement before I realize it.

I stop a moment too soon. I'm lit up with headlights, paralized with fear and confusion.

.

.

A few days ago...

"It'll just be for the weekend! Please Shawn, I've been planning this for a while, and Bill pulled out at the last second. Come on, I don't ask you to go hunting with me that often." my dad says, practically begging.

"Well you sure ask to go fishing a lot. And golfing." I say, even though it's not totally true.

"What's wrong with a father wanting to spend a little time with his only son?" he asks me.

That's my dad. Playing the guilty card.

"Okay! Fine, whatever, I'll go." I say, giving up. I don't have any plans anyway.

"Good. Be at the camp grounds by five. Not a minute late." he starts to walk away. "Oh, and Shawn? Bring some kind of camouflage this time. Bright red shirts don't exactly help you blend in."

My dad walks out of Psych, leaving me alone again.

I snicker. The last time I went, we didn't catch anything. I had brought along some clothes that had been spotted by every creature in the forest.

I glance at my watch. It was already 3 o'clock. I should start getting ready. It takes at least 30 minutes to get where my dad wanted to usually start. Plus I had a few things to do.

At my place, I packed two green shirts, and dark pants. Using the house phone, since my cell is charging (I forgot to plug it in last night), I call Gus and tell him of my weekend plans.

Hopping onto my motorcycle, I stop by the police station.

"Hey Jules!" I say to my obviously busy girlfriend.

"Oh, hey Shawn." she says, "What are you doing here?"

"What I can't drop by?" I respond.

"Of course! I didn't mean it that way."

"Actually I was going to tell you I'm going hunting with my dad this weekend, and cell reception is spotty, so I might not be able to call you." I explain.

"Oh, ok. Well, have fun. Be careful." she warns, kissing me on the cheek.

"I will. See you on Monday." I say.

"Monday," Juliet says back.

Stocking up on snacks (Dad never has enough) I head out to my father’s favorite place to go for hunting.

I arrive at 4:50 p.m.

Can't do that again, I think.

"Hey, look who’s actually here early. Help me unpack this stuff. We'll need to hit the trail as soon as possible if we want to find a good place before sundown. That's less than three hours. " he instructs.

Ten minutes later, both of us, loaded down, begin hiking to an area my dad says he’s never tried before.

We don’t talk much, even though at this point it doesn’t matter.As we walk further and further away from civilization, I can sense my dad getting increasingly relaxed. I find myself loosening up also.

Suddenly he stops.

“Here. Let’s stop here.”

While un-loading, I get a text from Gus. Turning, my father gives me a look. “Turn that off! You know the rules! No phones!”

“Awe, come on Dad! What if I put it on silent?” I try to convince him.

“No way. OFF!” he says.

Well it’s a good thing I told Juliet I might not be able to call her, I think, turning the phone off. So much for charging it.

As night starts to creep on, I get a sense that someone watching me. Ignore it, I tell myself. You’re in a forest! Everything’s watching you! 

When we have both eaten dinner, my dad loads the guns.

“Wow Dad. Are you sure you want to go tonight? We’ve got all tomorrow and Sunday.” I ask.

“Why not? Gives us a chance to warm up. Anyway, when was the last time you went to the shooting range?”

I think back. “True. Okay, but $10 to the first person to hit something!” I challenge.

“Oh, you’re so on! And maybe you’ll actually pay this time.” I love my dad when he’s like this.

He’s shocked when I win. But then he just laughs when he sees it’s just a rabbit.

“Hey!” I say, “A deal’s a deal! And, this little creature is the first to go.”

“Alright, alright. Here.” He takes out his wallet and is just about to hand me the money when it hits him.

The dart pierces into his back, and a second later he’s on the ground.

I pull it out, hoping it’ll help. I don’t even get a chance to decide what to do the next second before I feel a sharp prick on my neck, and blackout.

.

.

When I wake up, my whole body is sore. As my head clears, I realize what’s going on.

 

Both my day and I are tied, back against a tree. My arms curve behind me, my feet in a similar position. I feel like I’m going to fall, being in such an unnatural and uncomfortable position, but the ropes hold tight.

 

It’s pitch black in the forest, as not even the moon shines. The only light is from a fire about 10 feet away.

 

Calling to my dad in a load whisper, I try to wake him up. Finally, he does.

 

“Shawn? What are you doing? What’s going on?” he asks.

 

“Shhh! I don’t know. Last thing I remember, you were handing me money, and someone shot you in the back with a dart. Now we’re both here.” I try to explain.

 

“Are any of your ropes loose? I already tried mine.’ I see him pull.

 

“No.”

 

“What do we do?” I ask him, a little freaked.

 

Dad sighs. “I don’t know.”

 

We both jump as a voice breaks the quietness. “I DO!” the guy yells, running up and stabbing my dad in the stomach.

 

As I watch the blood flow from the wound, I yell at the attacker at the top of my lungs, but it doesn’t faze him. I never thought I’d ever see my dad in such physical pain. Now I don’t think I’ll ever forget his face. Defenseless, the guy now becomes interested on a spot on Dad’s arm. First acting like he’s scratching it, he pushes the knife in slowly, pulling it out in jagged bursts.

 

My voice goes hoarse as I call the guy every cuss word I’d ever known.

 

“Kid!” I hear my father gasp out. “Shhh…..”

 

Stopping at my dad’s request, the attacker turns to me. I go pale.

 

He walks slowly to me. “Well, well Shawn. You did what your dad asked this time. What a nice surprise.”

 

How does he know about me? I think

 

“You know what’s also a surprise?” Oh, no. “THIS!” he pulls his arm back and punches me, hard as he can, in the jaw. The force sends it sideways, slamming into the tree. Stars float around me, not just in the night sky, as the pain echoes all around. But I know it’s nothing like my father’s condition. He’s got a mini-pool of blood, and is fighting to stay awake.

 

“Go to Hell!’ I mutter.

 

Laughing, he goes back to my dad. “You know, my punching bag broke the other day. It’s a good thing I found a new one.” He releases a rampage of punches and kicks on Dad, as I stand here helpless. I’m pretty sure he’s not even conscious anymore.

 

“Stop! Stop!” I try to say, but not much comes out.

 

He seems to hear me. “You’re right. Why should I have all the fun on Henry here?”

 

I become his victim again as I’m stabbed three times, pretty quick, in my right shoulder, left hand, and right leg. He does it in a weird zigzag form.

 

I feel like a vacuum is sucking blood out my blood out, as it oozes down and meets with more.

 

Joining my dad, the world becomes as black as the sky.

 

.

.

(GUS)

 

I wake up and look at the clock, not believing I slept till 10 A.M. With Shawn away for the weekend, I won’t have to do a case and can actually do stuff I want to do. Not that I mind cases, I just haven’t had any real time to myself.

 

After cooking a breakfast of eggs and pancakes (imagine that!) for myself, I check my messages. That when I get the first phone call of the day.

 

“Hello?” I answer, not bothering to check the caller I.D.

 

“Gus?” a familiar voice asks.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Hey, it’s Juliet. Listen, you’ve got to get down here to the station. It’s important.” She says.

 

Something in her voice tells me not to question her right now. “Uh, ok. I’ll be there soon.”

 

Grabbing my car keys, I jump in the Blueberry (as Shawn always calls it) and head towards the police headquarters.

 

When I get there, I’m directed to Chief Vick’s office, where I find Juliet, Lassiter and the Chief.

 

“What’s going on?” I ask.

 

“Why don’t you take a seat?” Chief says. I do as she suggests.

 

“Earlier this morning, a trio of hikers found a pair of hiking backpacks thrown in the lake. Based on the belongings inside, we’re pretty sure whose it is. But, we’d like you to confirm it.”

 

“Ok…” I say, regretting whose I think it is.

 

Lassiter pulls them out from the side. I immediately recognize them.

 

“Oh-my-god. Those are Mr. Spencer’s! He and Shawn were going hunting this weekend.” I explain.

 

“Yeah, I know. He told me before he left.” Juliet says.

 

“Do you think-” I start.

 

“We don’t know anything yet. We have a small search team out, but we can’t assume too much. For all we know, they lost their supplies in the lake. We found their vehicles. So they were there at some point. There’s not much more we can do.” The Chief says.

 

“I want to help. I don’t care how, but I want to. Something doesn’t feel right. Have you looked all through them?” I say, indicating the bags.

 

“Pretty much. What is it?” Lassiter says.

 

“Mr. Spencer always kept track of his hikes, planned them out.” I grab the one he usually uses. I remember a secret pocket he once showed Shawn and I. Inside I find a trail map. There was a new, hand-drawn one in red. I point to it.

 

“Look! It has the date and everything.”

 

“It doesn’t hurt to try.” Chief Vick says. “Re-direct the search team. Go help the for a few hours too.”

 

“Please be okay.” I whisper to myself, leaving the room.

.

.

(Shawn)

 

I wake up to someone whispering my name. After a minute or two, I realize it’s being yelled, but in the distance. I could have sworn I also heard Gus.

 

It’s the middle of the day. Fortunately, the trees shade most of the sun. My arms ache from being in their uncomfortable position for what feels like days. But I know it’s been less than one.

 

I look over myself and don’t like what I see. Dry blood covers me like a second skin.

 

Without looking, I call over to my dad. When I get no answer, I steal a glance.

 

I cringe when I see him. My father is covered in cuts and bruises, the blood looking like it had always been there.

 

He’s still knocked out cold, but I know I should wake him up.

 

My voice still hoarse, I yell-whisper to him. It comes out in broken pieces.

 

“Dad! Dad!” after about the fourth time he responds.

 

“What?” he grumbles, a little anger in his voice. It only takes him a moment or two to remember what happened. His eyes open wide.

 

“Shawn!” he turns to me quickly, then winces in pain.

 

“Dad. It’s okay. Don’t do anything too sudden. I’m going to get us out of here.” I try to say. I’m not sure what all actually comes out.

 

“Shawn, what did he do to you? I only remember him punching you. When did he do all this?” he asks.

 

“After you… passed out... while he was, as he said, ‘using you as a punching bag,’ he came over to me. But, forget me. Dad, what about you? You got the worse of it.” I say.

 

He takes a sharp intake of air, and I can tell he’s in pain. “Oh, I’ll live. Sore for a while, but alive. You, on the other hand, have more open wounds. How do you feel? Don’t worry about me.” when I try to speak about him.

 

“Well, I didn’t get stabbed in the stomach. That’s a lot of blood. I feel... I don’t know, nauseous?’ I tell him, ignoring the pain part.

 

“That’s probably due to the loss of blood… No, no. I said don’t worry about me. Now, how are we going to get out of here?” my dad says, thinking.

 

“I can try and rub my ropes against the tree, see if it will wear away,” I suggest, already trying.

 

I have to constantly stop, as it hurts to do it, not to mention the slow flow of blood still coming out of my cuts. After a while, I can tell they are looser than before.

 

“It’s working!” I cry.

 

A moment later I hear my name being called again. And my dad’s.

 

“Shawn!” and “Mr. Spencer!” even “Henry!” are yelled, a pause between each one.

 

I look over at Dad. He heard it too. Knowing I can’t yell, he does it. Turns out he’s a little weaker than he thought.

 

“Here!” he yells out, but not as load as it would’ve been two days ago.

 

“Oh no you don’t!” the attacker from last night appears, and knocks my dad out with a shovel.

 

My strained whisper, “Hey!” doesn’t help. He just smiles and walks to me. De ja vu creeps through me.

 

I watch as he swings the shovel at me, missing the first time, and smiles wider when it hits my injured shoulder. “Oops.” he tries again, successfully hitting his mark.

.

.

(Gus)

 

We search the whole marked trail, only proof of my best friend and his dad is a set up camp, some belongings, including Shawn’s phone. My worry and fear grows as night comes, no sight of the pair.

 

I’m trailing behind Lassie and Jules when I get a call. At first I think it might be Shawn, but then I remember that we found his phone.

 

I answer the unknown number. “Hello?”

 

There’s a pause.

 

“Hello?” I say again, stopping my walk. The two detectives notice and stop too, coming towards me.

 

“You’ll never find them.” A hard voice says.

 

“What? Who is this?” I ask, holding my hand up to Lassiter, who’s trying to ask me something.

 

“You’ll never find the Spencers. And you might want to tell your two detectives to watch their backs, You too Burton.” It then goes on to play a recording of Shawn hoarsely yelling to his Dad, begging whoever to stop. My eyes widen in shock as it the plays several yells and gasps of pain, from both the son and father. The line goes dead.

 

Lowering the phone from my ear, my face is frozen in surprise and shock. I realize someone is calling me name.

 

“Gus! Gus! Gus, what happened? What’d you hear?” Juliet says.

 

“Huh? Oh, it was a guy.”

 

What’d he say?” she prompts.

 

“He said we’ll never find them, to watch our backs, and… he played sounds of Shawn yelling, hoarsely, and yells and gasps of pain from Shawn and Mr. Spencer. Oh- my- god! Jules, they’re being tortured!” my voice breaks at the end.

 

Lassiter looks furious. “We need to get back to the station! It’s going to get too dark to search tonight. We’ve got to find out who might want to hurt them.”

 

I follow close behind, still not wanting to believe what I had just heard.

.

.

(Shawn)

"Shawn...Shawn! Wake up! Shawn!"

"Huh?" I say, groggily.

"Wake up son. Come on, all the way."

I open my eyes, but close them almost immeadiately. My head is pounding, and the light, although almost none, burns my eyes.

"Dad?" I whisper. Tears touch my eyes and I bite my tounge, the pain too much.

"I'm here kiddo. Listen, I don't think he's here right now. Can you try to work on your ropes?" my dad says.

Eyes still closed, I start rubbing the ropes again, waking up along the way.

When my feet snap apart, it surprises me, and I go sliding down the tree. I open my eyes.

Dad's looking at me, something of relief, combined with pain and worry.

"Good job son. Are you ok?" he asks.

My headaches mostly subdued, I can concentrate better now. I'm aware of the pain from my shoulder, and some from my leg and hand. But not as bad as my shoulder.

"Yeah," I whisper. "You?"

"I'm good. Can you get your hands? We may not have long."

"I'll try."

Everytime I go back and forth, my shoulder sends a new fire. I try my best to ignore it.

Finally, the rope breaks, and my hands fall down.

Standing up, I double check to make I'm alive. I'm about to walk towards my dad, when we hear a rustle in the forest.

"Run Shawn! I'll be fine! Get help!" is the last thing I here before my dad passes out. I don't stay long to find out why.

The pounding of my heart and heavy breathing are the only things that occupy my ears now.

Pain and determination surge through my body, one telling me to stop, the other pushing me forward.

I trip several times, running in zig-zags in case I'm being chased. Tree limbs scratch my face, but I barely notice. I've got to get help.

Where's the damn road? I think to myself, almost screaming it.

I find it, dashing straight onto the pavement before I realize it.

I stop a moment too soon. I'm lit up with headlights, paralized with fear and confusion.

.

.

(GUS)

I'm woken up after only 45 minutes of sleep. My bedside clock reads 3:35. Lassie had sent me home after staying up late trying to find out more with Shawn.

My phone blears its standard tone. Groaning, I reach for it.

"Hello?" I say, suddenly awake. The caller ID said Lassiter.

"Guster?" the familiar voice calls for.

"Yeah? What's the matter?"

"You need to get down here. Hurry!" he commands.

"Oh...ok. I-I'm on my way!" I rub my eyes, throwing on a pair of jeans and not-so-wrinkled shirt. Stuffing the phone in my pocket, I slam the door on the way out.

I find Lassie with O'Hara in the waiting room, worried expressions on their faces.

Rushing up to meet them, I say the thing that had been on my mind the last five minutes.

"Did you find them? Are they alright!" I ask.

"Woah, Gus, calm down there." Juliet tells me.

"Alright. Just tell me." I say.

The detectives glance at each other, not sure who should say what.

"I don't know how to say this, so I'm just going to put it all out there," Juliet starts, taking a deap breath.

"The first night they were out, some guy knocked them out and tied them to trees. He stabbed Henry in the stomach and arm. He also punched and kicked him several times. Even hit him in the head with a shovel. Shawn was forced to watch it all." he eyes tear up.

"Shawn was punched in the jaw, stabbed three times, and knocked out, hard. Unfortunately that's not all. When... when Shawn escaped about an hour ago, he darted into the street and was hit by a car. He has several broken bones. The doctors didn't give us much, but said he's in surgery right now. One of his ribs punctured some organ." Lassiter says, taking over.

"Oh-my-god!" I whisper, collapsing in a chair.

I take in what all just happened to my best friend and his father.

"Can I go see Mr.Spencer?" I ask.

"I don't see why not. He's resting, so the doctor said only a few people at a time. Would you like to go alone?" Lassiter says. I nod. "Room 204."

As I head towards the room, I prepare myself for whatever he looks like. I have to be strong.

.

.

(Shawn)

 

I didn’t even feel the impact. One moment I was running, the next I was flying.

 

I land softly, on a pillow of asphalt. Light washes over me, and I close my eyes.

 

At some point I realize I’m being lifted, carried away. Objects float into the forest, frantically searching for something.

 

I fall away, only to be lifted again. This time I’m more aware. I look down and see a person on a metal table, broken and bloody, while surgeons try and save him. Something tells me it’s me.

 

I float up more, and see people I know. Gus, Jules, Lassie, I see them all. I see my dad lying on a bed, Gus near him. Suddenly I stop. My dad! I was supposed to save him! Did I?

 

I’m sucked down quickly, back towards the body on the metal table. At first I resist, but know I shouldn’t.

 

I don’t see anything, but I hear. I hear doctors and machines. As one starts to make a BEEP BEEP sound, one of the doctors says, “He’s back!”

 

Pain becomes my new being as I fully come back. I don’t stay for long though as the now comforting darkness takes over.

.

.

(GUS)

 

I knock on the door of 204. “Mr. Spencer?” I say, peeking in.

 

“Come in.” a voice says.

 

I walk in, and am surprised by his condition. I try not to let it show. It doesn’t work.

 

“Gus? What are you doing here?” he asks.

 

“Why wouldn’t I come after my best friend and his dad go missing, only to turn up hurt?”

 

“Speaking of, how’s Shawn? They literally won’t tell me anything.” He says, worry in his voice.

 

“They only say he’s in surgery, but it’s been hours. I hope everything’s going all right.” I explain.

 

“Well me too.”

 

“Mr. Spencer, can I ask you something?” I ask.

 

“Sure.”

 

“I know Lassie and Juliet pretty much explained, but what happened?”

 

“I figured somebody would ask soon enough. Uh, well, the first night we were there, we decided to take some practice shots. Shawn won a bet, and I was handing him the money when I blacked out. When I woke up, we were both tied to trees. He attacked both of us several times. I don’t know how many times I woke up or was attacked, but I do remember Shawn escaping to get help. I’m guessing he did.” Henry explains to me.

 

After relating it with the previous story, I decide to tell him at least one thing I know.

 

“Well Shawn got help. In a roundabout way. When he was running, I’m guessing when he escaped, he ran into the road. Mr. Spencer, he got hit by a car. They figured you’d be near, and a search team found you.

 

He seems shocked by what I said. “What? Is he okay? When can I see him?”

 

“Last I heard he was still in surgery. They said that he was in critical condition. Lassie and Jules are in the waiting room. They’d like to come in after me, if that’s all right?” I say.

 

“Uh, yeah, sure. Will you keep me posted on Shawn?” he asks.

 

“Of course. I’m going to send one of them in now.” I say goodbye, then turn away.

 

In the waiting room, I walk up and gently pat the sleeping female detective on the arm. “Your turn.”

.

.

(SHAWN)

 

When my eyes open slowly, I can’t stay focused on anything, and close them again. However, someone was there waiting.

 

“Mr. Spencer? Are you awake? How do you feel?” a young female voice asks.

 

I look again and see here. I try to smile, but can’t. It’s Shawn. And, honestly? Terrible.” My head aches and I’m pretty sure my whole body is broken.

 

She asks me some more routine questions than leaves for pain pills and the doctor.

 

After she’s gone, I sigh and think. Actually think. Why am I here? What happened? That’s when I remember my dad and the weekend’s events.

 

I panic, wondering if my dad’s ok. How did we get here? Where’s Gus?

 

A rush of more questions comes, and it doesn’t help, especially with my headache. I look down and notice my condition.

 

My right arm is in a cast, bandage on my shoulder and palm. While my left leg is in a cast, my right is in a splint, avoiding the wound on it.

 

When I try to sit up some, I find I can’t, as there is more of the hard stuff around my center. I didn’t realize it at first, but I have an oxygen mask on. When I take it off, I immediately put it back. It not only hurts, but is hard to breathe, and only my right side rises.

 

Wait a second, I think. What DID happen? As my brain slowly goes back, I remember only what feels like half that I should know.

 

Suddenly something flashes and I remember running into the road. Was I hit by a car? Again, II think about my dad.

 

Although I know the doctor is coming soon, I fall asleep, exhausted than beyond can be.

.

.

(GUS)

 

“Are you sure he’s awake, doctor?” I ask. Last time he said so, Shawn had been out again.

 

After he confirms this, I go toward my best friend’s door. Not waiting another second, I step in.

 

“Gus! How glad am I to see you!” Shawn exclaims, smiling as best as he can.

 

“Oh, you have no clue.” I remark. I still couldn’t believe his condition. It’s a surprise he’s alive. Broken bones were one thing, but he had lost a lot of blood, and a rib had punctured his left lung.

 

Now, Henry was very lucky too, but most of his wounds would turn to bruises, with the exception of the two stabbings and bruised ribs. Luckily, neither would cause long term damage.

 

“How are you feeling?” I say.

 

“How would you feel?” Shawn responds.

 

I’m quite, knowing I couldn’t even imagine.

 

“Ok, there’s something I’ve got to know. Is my dad ok?” he asks.

 

“Yeah, he’s a few floors down, resting. He told me to keep him posted on you. I’ve got a good feeling he’s going to annoy the doctors to see you as soon as he can.” I explain.

 

“Thank God,” he whispers.

 

Silence takes over and I can tell he’s thinking.

 

“You know, I heard you guys calling. For my dad and I. I wanted to call back, but my voice was so hoarse from yelling at that SOB. So my dad, well he tried. Unfortunately that resulted in a nice sleep caused by a shovel for both of us.” Shawn tells me.

 

I don’t answer. What could I say?

 

The door opens and a nurse pops in. “I’m sorry sir but visiting hours are now over.”

 

As I head out the door, I turn to the man, my best friend, brother, laying hurt on the bed. “You know that as soon as I find that guy, he’s going to wish he was never born.

.

.

(Shawn)

I smile slightly to myself. The idea of Gus not only finding the guy, but threatening him is funny. I don’t doubt that he could, but he’s not exactly the type to be doing that. I mean, sure, we solve cases together all the time, and he’s great, yet he always is against whatever I’m doing.

Around 9 p.m. I get bored and reach for the phone. Everything has been moved closer for easier access for me. I dial the first number that comes to mind.

On the 3rd ring, a voice answers.

“O’Hara.”

“I never thought I’d hear your voice again.” I speak, my sound still a bit hoarse.

“Shawn?! How are you?” she says.

“Well… I’m alive. Are you coming over here tomorrow? I’m quite lonely.”

“I plan on it. There was only a few minutes left today, so we decided to let Gus go. We all hope you ge better, soon.” Jules says.

“Thanks. Anything happen while I was…” I stop, not knowing the appropriate word.

She interrupts, getting what I mean. After the latest gossip is discussed, I get very sleepy, and try not to fall asleep on the detective. Fortunately, Juliet realizes this and says goodbye, promising to see me soon.

.

.

(GUS)

 

Early the next day, I make my route quickly, then head to Psych to start on our most important case.

 

With wide parameters, I search for similar attacks on father and sons. After a sad amount of results, I change it to only forest ones. Tied to trees, beaten, reported missing.

 

Five results come up over the last 10 years. Only in the first one did someone survive. He said that he and his father had been hunting when suddenly they found themselves in the life-changing experience.

 

The guy, now 28, 18 at the time, had been badly beaten and stabbed, yet somehow not lost a lot of blood. He too had escaped, but when he returned for his dad with help, it was too late.

 

His name, Tyler Frank; father, Steven Frank.

 

I’m going to go check out this guy, I think. Maybe he can help.

 

***

The address leads to a cabin hiding in the woods. I was only able to find it because of a random mailbox before a winding dirt path.

I knock promptly on the door. It opens just a few inches, secured by a chain. “May I help you?”

“Hello, Mr. Frank? Hi, my name is Burton Guster- may I come in?”

A few seconds later I’m sitting across a couch from him. The first thing I notice is a scar on his left hand, horizontal on both sides. Just like Shawn, I think.

The only other visible physical injury is a slash on his check. I’m starting to sound like Shawn.

“Mr. Frank-“

“You can call me Tyler.”

“Ok, Tyler, I’ve been investigating attacks on father and sons while hunting in the forest. You probably know where I’m going with this- besides this last time, you were the only survivor. I’m wondering if there’s anything you can remember about the attacker, maybe something you didn’t think of at the time?”

It takes him a few seconds to respond. “The only thing I remember was that he was black, no offense, and that he had flower tattoo on his arm that had a name on it. But besides that, I don’t remember anything. Sorry, I wish I could help some more.”

“It’s okay. You’ve done plenty. And here-“ I hand him a Psych card- “if you need help with anything, or remember anything, give us a call.”

Tyler looks down at it. “You’re a psychic?”

I give a little laugh. “Hardly. No, that’s my best friend, Shawn. He and his father were the latest victims. Luckily they’re both going to be fine. Just a lot of healing to do.”

He shows me to the door. See Shawn, I think, you don’t always have to come up with aliases.

.

.

(Shawn)
“Shawn! Shawn! Wake up!” a harsh whisper calls to me.

“Go away… I don’t want to get up yet… It’s too early Dad!” I mumble back.

“Wake up kid.” He says. That’s when I realize I’m not in my bed. Or at home. Let alone 12.

Opening my eyes, I look up to see my dad in a hospital gown, sitting painfully in a chair.

“Dad!” I say, sitting up a slight bit, wincing because it still hurts. “Are you supposed to be here?” I ask.

“Probably not, but you would not believe how easy it is to walk around here. Anyway, they’re not going to let me go for at least another few days. I can’t wait that long just to see you. How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Well… I don’t know, really. What about you?” I say.

He smiles. “Are we going to do this every time?”

After a few minutes he glances at the wall clock.

“I should go before Nurse Busybody decides to check in on me. If you enter my room number, 204, on the phone, it’ll call me.” My dad tells me.

“Oh, ok. Thanks.”

He nods.

Just as he’s about to leave, I speak out.

“Dad?”

“Yeah?” he turns around.

“I just wanted to say.. what I mean to say is… what I've always meant to say.. *sigh* I love you.”

He looks me in the eye. “I love you too Shawn.”

.

.

(GUS)

“Is there anything you can remember about the guy?” Juliet is asking Shawn when I walk in.

They look up and then he closes his eyes for a minute. “He was strong, definitely white, maybe 6 ½ feet tall… that’s all I saw. I can’t remember anything else. Wore a dark hooded sweatshirt the whole time. Sorry.”

“That’s okay Shawn. Whatever helps. I’ll come back. See you guys later.” She leaves.

“Dude!” Shawn says. “I remember something about the guy!”

“Want me to get Juliet?” I ask.

“No, no. Not exactly something we can tell them. You know, stuff I saw.” He explains, putting his hand to his temple.

“Oh, ok. What?”

“Well, he had a scar on his cheek. Like a slash of some kind. That’s the only part of his face I could see. I also noticed that he had a scar on his left hand. Have you seen anyone like this?” Shawn asks.

I think, and then gasp. “Oh-my-god! I know exactly who that is!” I start to run out of the room, but he stops me.

“Wait! Who?”

“Tyler Franks! The first victim. Wow… this is so screwed up. What’d he do, kill his own father?”

“Probably not. He’s most likely re-enacting what happened to him. How many other known cases are there?” Shawn asks.

“Five… I’ve got to go before he can escape. He might realize I could figure it out.

“Okay. Be safe Gus!” he yells after me.


PSYCH~PSYCH~PSYCH~


I parked a little ways down the winding road, not visible from the house. Sneaking through the trees, I approach an open window.

Finding myself in an office, I look around, searching for anything of interest.

Down the hall is a washroom. On the floor is a black sweatshirt, covered is still drying blood. This will do, I think, leaving it there.

Cautiously, I make my way to the living room. Peaking around the corner, I see nobody. Turning around, I yelp in surprise to find a gun staring at me.

Tyler Franks grabs me by the collar, yanking me against the wall, making me gasp for air.

“Well, well, looks like you came to ME. Your making this so much easier.” He says.

“What?” I choke.

“I was just heading out to find you. I mean, you obviously realized it was me who did all those lovely things those unlucky father and sons. I can’t have you ratting me out, you know?” he laughs when he sees the fear in my eyes.

“Let’s begin, shall we? Tyler says, then brings his fist back, connecting it with my skull, knocking me out.

.

.

(GUS)

When I wake up, I find myself, to my dismay, tied to a tree behind Tyler's house, similar to the way Shawn had described being tied. Except, istead of ropes, he had used zip ties.

Luckily, my dad was no where to be found. Feeling my phone vibrating in my pocket, I try and wiggle and answer it.

Appearing from my left, in the now diminishing light, Tyler pulls it out from my pocket.

"Oh, hello Shawn." he smiles, looking at me. "Remember me? Hey, settle down, I haven't hurt him -- yet. Are you and your dad doing good? I was so surprised when you got away. Okay, well, I'm going to let you go. Gus and I have some matters to attend to. Isn't that right?" he asks me, whipping me with a thick piece of something (I suspect leather), causing me to scream in pain.He hangs up the phone.

I try begging to the man. "I won't tell anyone, if you let me go. I'll lead them towards somewhere nowhere near you."

"Haha, good try. No, I'm okay. Now, to start with your long death!" he says.

Taking the strip again, he strikes me several times, making my whole body sting and bleed.

When he pauses, I speak out. "You know, I'm not the only one who knows who you are."

This completely stops him. Catching movement him, I continue. "I also told Shawn." I half-smile (well more like a wince), at his look of surprise.

"SBPD! Put your hands in the air, Tyler Franks!" Detective Carlton Lassiter yells, gun trained on the criminal, partner at his side.

Turning around, he drops the whip. As Lassie cuffs him, Jules comes over towards me.

"Are you ok Gus?" she asks carefully, noticing the marks that tear and bleed through my shirt.

Cutting the ties, she lets me sit down.

"Yeah. I'm going to be pretty sore though."

She helps me up. "There's an ambulance out front. You should go to the hospital, let them check you over."

Not wanting to argue, I agree.

SIX MONTHS LATER...

(SHAWN)

"I can't believe he killed and harmed so many people! I'm just glad he's getting justice. But, it's also sad that a trauma can cause so much... destruction." Gus says.

I nod. Spotting my dad at one tables of the restaurant we were at, I pull ahead, my best friend following me.

"Hey dad!" I tell him. In the last few months we hadn't argued once (well, not anything real) and most of our issues were dropped or resolved for now.

"Hey Shawn, Gus. What are you guys doing here?" he asks.

"Gus and I were hungry and figured we'd pick up something from the BEST restaurant ever!" I explain.

"You know that's right!" Gus agrees. We fist bump.

"Have you been following Tyler's court case?" my dad asks randomly.

Gus and I share a look. "Not exactly. I trust justice is on our side." I say.

"So you don't know that there is so much evidence piled up against him, they will have no choice but to find him guilty. In the end he was quite sloppy. I mean, he still hasn't technically admitted to those four other times, but they found personal belongings of each of the victims in his house. That, and the bloody shirt, Gus, plus his fingerprints were lifted from that shovel he used. The one time he doesn't use gloves, and he picks up a shovel!" he concludes.

I think about it for a second. Ah, yes the shovel.

"That's good. Like I said, I trust he'll be properly punished. So, who wants some jerk chicken?" I ask.

As we order, I catch my dad looking at me. He understands why I'm not following the case. He also sees that none of us will ever be the same, forever changed. But, sometimes change is good.