The Hunt

Jennifer couldn't believe that this...knuckle dragger would dare talk to her like that! She knew what she had to do. She'd call down to maintenance and peel the hide off of whatever mental defective was down there until she made herself clear that she wanted that man fired and if they didn't want to do it, then they could join him in the unemployment line.

Marching back into her office with every intention of making that call, she was surprised though to find two building security men waiting for her. They seemed at a glance to be a little higher-functioning than most of the others they had around here. Both were clean-shaven and had an intense look about them.

"Miss Ryan?" the taller one asked.

"Yes, what's the matter?" she asked. Rather than answering, he pulled out what looked like a photo and checked it against her face. Confirming her identity, he nodded to his partner who reached into his jacket and pulled out some kind of gun.

"What are you doing?" she exclaimed, unable to believe this was happening right here in her office, her seat of power. Seeing that the second goon was going to shoot her, Jennifer found she only had one weapon in hand: the salad that she'd just purchased downstairs. At the last moment, she threw it as hard as she could and managed to distract the man enough to cause him to miss. Instead of the expected sound of a gunshot, she heard a dull thump followed by the thud of what looked like a big dart sticking out of the hardwood door of her office. By this time, she'd already turned to make a run for it but was grabbed from behind and lifted off the ground by a pair of very strong hands.

Jennifer didn't know who these two were or what they might be after, but at that moment, she really didn't care. She just did what her self-defense coach had told her to do. She screamed at the top of her lungs and started fighting with all her strength. While she was doing that, one of her attackers held on to her while the other seemed to be trying to reload his gun.

After a moment's frustration, he finally appeared to give that up, simply dropped the gun, and instead pulled out a stun gun. He activated the stun gun and, after signaling his partner to let her go for a second, jabbed the nonlethal weapon into her stomach.

Jennifer had never felt anything like it. It was like her whole body started going berserk. All of her muscles clenched up, and she felt an unbelievable, searing-hot pain go through her before she passed out.

Catching her inert body and lowering it to the floor, the taller of the two men looked at his partner. "We weren't supposed to hurt her."

"She'll be fine," the man with the stun gun answered as he pulled out the spring-loaded inoculation syringe he carried as a back up to his tranquilizer gun.

But before he could give her the shot to keep her out, they were interrupted by a voice calling from the outer office, "Hey, are you all right in there?"

Hearing the source of the voice coming closer, the two men quickly dragged the woman out of site and positioned themselves, more than ready for whoever was coming through the door.

Part 5

Reluctantly coming awake in the dingy, low-rent, one-bedroom apartment to the annoying racket of his cheap alarm-clock buzzer happily humming away, James Stillman would have liked nothing more that to reach out and smash the damn thing to pieces. But since he was broke and hung-over again, he merely reached out and, after a couple of tries, managed to turn it off.

Throwing back the sweat-dampened covers, he managed to roll out of bed and noticed that today, unlike other mornings, the room wasn't still swaying, at least. He took that as a good sign. Jim really didn't think that he could have dealt with a swaying room right now as he trudged off to the bathroom.

After showering and brushing his teeth, Jim started to feel almost human again. He'd long since forgotten how many drinks he'd had last night in that little hole-in-the-wall bar he frequented after work.

About the only thing going for his favorite watering hole, as far as he could see, was that it stayed open all hours. Staring at his bloodshot-eyed reflection in the bathroom mirror, he considered for a moment shaving the stubble off his chin, but seeing how much his hand was still trembling while holding his toothbrush, Jim decided the hell with it and instead started to look for some reasonably clean clothes.

Jim was very glad that it was Friday, even though he had to work second shift. It was good not only because he would have the weekend off but because it was Friday. Friday meant that the office building where he worked would be cleared out and quiet even earlier than usual, which was just fine with him.

All the suits would probably be out buying new Porsches or something, he supposed -- that is, except for a few of the real overachievers they had working there; those saps would still be at their desks plugging away till who knows when.

Jim supposed that he'd been like that once as well, even if he couldn't remember exactly when in his life that had been. Everyone had to go through that sort of phase at some point, didn't they? Not really feeling like eating anything, he did manage to drink a cup of strong coffee, which made him feel at least a little better.

After digging around the pile of semi-clean clothes he had accumulated in his bedroom, Jim found the blue janitor's uniform he had to wear (no matter how much he hated it) that had the least odor coming from it and put it back on. He also discovered that it was starting to fit a little tight around the middle. When did that happen, he wondered?

Jim really didn't know if he was going to do anything about his suddenly expanding waistline or not. Did he even care? Not really, Jim knew, if he was being honest with himself, but old habits die hard.

The software company where he worked had a gym that was open to everyone now -- even him, the lowest of the low. He'd overheard plenty of bitching about that from the higher-ups, which was the one good thing about being a janitor (or rather, an environmental engineer, as they called it while they somehow managed to keep a straight face).

Being on the very bottom rung of the ladder meant that everyone around you treated you like you didn't even exist. Jim found the idea of being invisible at first to be really annoying, but after a while, he discovered that it had its advantages. For instance, he could listen in on other peoples conversations, or go through their desks and their trash to see what they were up to. He could even go just about anywhere in the building he wanted whenever he wanted without being questioned. On top of all that, there were also plenty of good-looking secretaries running around. Can't beat a little eye candy, he thought -- not that any of them would ever stoop to going out with him, of course, but that didn't stop him from looking.

Thinking about the situation with the gym at work brought him back to the realization of his expanding waistline. Maybe he really should start working out again, Jim thought to himself after considering the women he might meet. Well, he'd think about it, Jim decided with a shrug, and with that thought, he closed his apartment door behind him and went to work.

The first part of the night had gone just about as he'd thought it would -- that is, except for the call he got during the evening telling him that the building's computerized security systems were down.

Jim found that pretty amusing: a software company that couldn't keep its own electronic systems running. Security had asked that the custodial staff keep their eyes open for anything out of the ordinary till they could sort out the problem.

Just as he'd thought, all the young, upwardly mobile people had cut out the first chance they had, and by 9 p.m., the place was pretty well deserted. In fact, Jim was getting dangerously close to having a good night at work -- that is, till he almost ran over the Dragon Lady with his cleaning cart.

It wasn't his fault, really; with this carpeting, you couldn't hear anyone coming around a corner.

Hell, he didn't knock her down or even make her drop the dinner she was carrying in one of those plastic containers you get at gas stations for sandwiches and shit like that. To top it off, he'd even asked if she was all right, and what does he get for all his trouble? He gets yelled at, that's what.

Looking over her otherwise well-put-together 5-foot-nothing frame, Jim wondered why is it that women who are short, tall, fat, thin, or in any way out of the ordinary have to make up for it by being extra bitchy.

After seeing that she was all right, Jim decided that he didn't really need to stand around here and listen to her yell at him all night, especially since he was already running a little late and should have been off this floor by now, so he just turned and kept going on down the hall.

Unbelievably, he could still hear the self-important executive harping about her importance and how he should show some respect and all that crap.

At that point, he did stop, though he knew he should have kept walking. While Jim felt she had it coming, he didn't really think she liked it too much when he pointed out the obvious fact that respect is something that works both ways.

Turning to walk away again, with a grin this time, he swore he could almost see the steam coming out of her ears. Figuring that he was about to get fired again, Jim idly wondered if his file at the job service was still active.

Not long after that, he was cleaning one of the executive crappers (since God knows the big shots were far too important to exercise their bodily functions with the hired help) when he thought he heard a muffled scream. Jim paused to listen for a moment. What was that, he wondered?

Now, the building was very quiet this late at night, but with all the sound proofing, it was still hard to be sure he'd really heard what he'd thought he'd heard. Since the security systems were down, though, even though he was behind schedule, the ex-soldier in him figured he should take a look just to be safe -- old habits and all that.

Walking down the hall, he found the Dragon Lady's inner office door open, which was unusual for her. She wasn't what you would call an approachable person; that door was always shut at this hour, Jim knew from experience, and usually locked whether she was in there or not.

After not hearing anything from inside, he risked getting yelled at again and called out. "You all right in there?"

Not getting a response, Jim started getting more worried that something was wrong. He eased past the outer door as quietly as he could and crossed to the inner office door.

When he still didn't hear any activity, his anxiety level kept going up. Maybe he should get some help. He thought about it for a second but decided to just take a quick look first. He eased the inner door the rest of the way open but couldn't see anyone. Going into the office, he almost missed but at the last moment caught the reflection in a darkened office window of someone standing behind him.

Previously well-honed reflexes that hadn't been used in a while but were still there took over. Jim sidestepped the probes from the stun gun meant for his back, causing them to find nothing but air.

Pivoting, he grabbed the arm holding the weapon and used a hip throw on whoever the hell this was. Flipping the man over his back, Jim sent him to land in a heap on the floor.

Jim only had a moment to congratulate himself on smoothly executing a move he hadn't practiced in a while when another guy he hadn't seen before came from behind the door with some kind of gun he didn't recognize aimed at him.

Standing so close to his would-be attacker, Jim, rather than try to dodge out of the way, grabbed the gun's barrel to keep it pushed away from him. The two men struggled for the weapon for a moment. Jim had just managed to wrest the gun away from the second man when he felt a sharp pain in his leg and looked down to see the other guy holding some kind of syringe to his leg.

Automatically reaching down to pull it out, he discovered to his chagrin that his legs didn't want to support him anymore and promptly dropped to the floor. Lying there helpless for a moment before he passed out, Jim did wondered just what in the hell he'd stumbled into.

After quickly making sure that both Jennifer and Jim were out cold, one of the men secured their hands and feet with flex cuffs while the other went to get the large supply cart they'd left in a storage room and brought it back into Miss Ryan's office.

Then the team leader took a second to look the situation over. Their orders had been to grab the woman, but now they had this other guy. What should they do with him?

"He had to have seen our faces," his partner said, stating the obvious.

"But we can't kill him here; the cops would be onto us to soon." The leader mulled over his options for a second and said, "We'll take him with us. The boss is going to have an extra player this time around."

His partner agreed that this was the best thing to do. After making sure that the office was back in order, the two men quickly loaded both of the unconscious people into the cart, threw a cover over it, and started for the freight elevator.

Knowing that they didn't have much time before the building's security system was back on, they went out a side door and loaded the cart into a waiting van. While one man drove the van, the other went back into the building to retrieve the lady's BMW. After all, the lady couldn't leave for the weekend without her car, could she? They didn't know which car belonged to the broom pusher, so they couldn't have that one taken too, but from the smell of alcohol they'd gotten off him, the two men decided that no one would ask too many questions about his disappearance -- at least not till it was too late.

The first day

Coming around, James felt like he was waking up from one of his three-day benders. God, his head hurt. But it was the smell of food that got his attention the most.

He opened his eyes to find that he was outside, though that fact wasn't too surprising, really. It was just that he wasn't lying in somebody's lawn (which had happened a few times), but instead he was out in the woods somewhere. "What the hell?"

Another surprising thing was that he wasn't alone. There were three other people -- two men and one woman -- who were with him in what looked like a campsite. There was even a low-burning fire, as well as what looked like food warmers from a military field kitchen.

After seeing that the others, whoever they were, were coming around now too, Jim spotted a bag with a red cross on it and, desperately hoping to find some aspirin or something to help with this god-awful headache, staggered over and opened it.

Inside were all sorts of bandages, ointments, that sort of thing, as well as (to his relief) a bottle of Tylenol, which he promptly opened. Finding a cooler with cartons of orange juice in it, he grabbed a juice and downed three of those glorious hangover remedies.

Taking another pull of juice and feeling a little more alive now, he surveyed the scene. He hadn't recognize the woman at first -- not with her hair and clothes all disheveled. When he had seen her at work, she'd always been the image of the impeccably dressed businesswoman. When she sat up and he got a look at her face, though, he knew at once who she was.

Making the connection, Jim let out a sigh. Here he went and got himself kidnapped or whatever, and who does he find? Muttering to himself about fate, luck, or whatever seemed to have it in for him, he said out loud, "Jennifer Ryan, right?"

Hearing her name being called helped to clear the cobwebs from her head. Brushing the last of the hair out of her face, Jennifer saw the janitor she was going to have fired standing in front of her. She looked to her left, where there was a heavyset blond-haired man waking up who looked as out-of-sorts as she felt.

"What the hell is going on?" This came from a Latino whom she also didn't know.

"That does seem to be the question before us," Jim told him.

"Who the hell are you?" the Latino asked.

"I'm James Stillman; you can call me Jim if you like." "I'll call you a bitch when you're sucking my dick," the Latino replied, getting to his feet, and started patting himself down as if looking for something.

Jim did the same thing, more out of habit than anything, and wasn't really surprised that his wallet was gone, as well as a ring he'd bought while in the service.

"Where's my gun!"

"How should I know, pal. My wallet and ring are gone too." "So are mine," the other man told them, "and my necklace." "Mine are too," Jennifer told them, getting to her feet." Jim had to admit that she looked a little ridiculous standing out here in the boonies barefoot in her wrinkled business suit. But on the other hand, he was still in his blue work clothes too, so he supposed he didn't have to much room to laugh.

Still smelling what was in the food warmers, Jim decided that even with everything that was going on, the idea of getting something to eat was sounding better and better.

"I don't know about any of you," he told them, "but I'm starved." He promptly headed over to see what had been left for them.

Pulling the cover off, he found eggs, sausages, toast, rolls -- hell, even pancakes with syrup. Whoever had left them here certainly didn't want them going hungry. Grabbing a paper plate and a plastic fork, he started to dig in.

The other three traded a look, then quickly got their own plates and started in too. Sitting on the ground around the fire to keep off the morning chill while they ate, the four of them looked each other over. Jim already knew about Jennifer Ryan, but the other two were a mystery.

"Where are you two from?" he asked.

"Who wants to know?" the Latino (who had "gangbanger" written all over him)said.

Jim decided to ignore the tone and try to keep things on an even keel for the moment. "Well, I'm James Stillman from Seattle, and like I said before, you can call me Jim if you like."

"What do you do?" the blond-haired man asked.

"I'm a janitor in a software company. How about you?"

"I'm Mark Anderson. I'm from Chicago, and I at least used to work in a factory there."

Nodding at that, Jim turned to Jennifer, "You're next." She looked at him in surprise for a moment before responding.

"I'm Jennifer Ryan. I'm an executive at the same software Company where Mr. Stillman works."

"Really? How'd that happen?" Mark asked.

Jim had been wondering that same thing himself. "I'm not really sure," he replied honestly, but I think that I'm here by accident." Seeing the curious looks he was getting, Jim decided to elaborate. "I think that whoever is doing this to us was after Jennifer here, and I walked in on it."

"That's got to suck," Mark observed for all of them.

"You have no idea," Jim told him ruefully before turning to the last member of their group. "How about you, friend? What's your story?"

Paco didn't usually like answering questions about himself, but under the circumstances, he decided to play along. "I'm Paco Ramirez. I'm from L.A."

"What do you do?" the white guy in the cheap blue clothes, who look halfway toward being a bum, asked.

"I'm an independent businessman," Paco said with a smirk. Snorting, Jim replied, "You're a drug dealer, eh?"

"You got a problem with that?"

"No, not at all," Jim replied honestly, "I've always felt that you have to do whatever you have to, to get through the day."

"You should know," Jennifer said smugly. "You're the one who smells like a distillery."

Nodding, Jim replied, "I have been known to tip a few from time to time, but we all have our little vices now, don't we?" He gave her a grin that caused her to blush.