Cleansing

Chapter Eight

****
Doug’s heart was beating at such an incredibly fast rate, it hurt. Anxiousness, eagerness, and rage were pulsing through him and waited to be unleashed like the relentless fury of a powerful storm. In the dark with nothing but streetlamps and moonlight to illuminate the area about him, his eyes were on high alert and working at their best to watch for the person he was anticipating.

“You okay?” Ioki asked quietly from beside him, averting his gaze from the house for a moment to look at Doug.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Doug answered briskly. In actuality, he was anything but fine. He was completely on edge and ready to go off like a fire-cracker. “Damn it, where is he?”
“Probably still with Hanson, wherever that is.”
“I figured they’d be done for the night with him.”
“Maybe they decided to go on a little longer this time.”

Suddenly, there was someone rounding the corner of the block and making their way along on the sidewalk.

“Look! I think it’s him,” Doug exclaimed and pointed. The shrubbery they were crouched behind kept them out of view, which proved to be useful when the person kept scanning the area around him.
Ioki brought the binoculars to his eyes and peered through them. “I think you may be right. See for yourself.”
Doug took the instrument and held it up to his own wide and frantic eyes. Simply seeing the teen’s face almost made him lose it completely. “Yep. That’s him,” he confirmed, keeping himself composed.
“Got a visual, Coach,” Ioki spoke into the walkie-talkie. “Suspect heading toward the house.”

Once the teenager started treading up the driveway, all Doug heard of Fuller’s reply was “Go.”

He was up and on his feet in seconds and running. Ioki was quick to follow. Hearing the rapid footsteps on the pavement made Danny stop to see who it was before sprinting off in the opposite direction of where Doug and Ioki were coming from.
Doug pushed himself to move faster, closing the gap between him and his prey. The sound of police sirens could be heard not far away, and as the two rounded the corner of the block, flashing red and blue lights atop numerous cop cars were roving toward them.

Doug, however, did not need the backup help to cut off the teen’s path. He lunged for Benton, caught him around the waist, and tackled him to the ground. Danny was sprawled out face-down in the cold, dead grass with Penhall sitting on his legs. His arms were gruffly pulled behind him and held in place on his back.

Hurriedly removing his badge from the left pocket of his jeans, Doug smacked Benton on the side of his head with it before holding it in front of him to look at.

“See this?” Penhall shouted and hit him once again with it. “Means I’m gonna bust your ass. You lose. Game’s over.”
“You think I’m goin’ to talk just because you take me into custody? You’re sadly mistaken, Penhall. You’re partner’s gonna die no matter what you do.”

Ignoring the comment, Doug retrieved his handcuffs and began putting the teenager’s wrists in them. “Danny Benton, you’re under arrest for the kidnapping, assault, and rape of Officer Tom Hanson. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you….”

****
It took all the self-restraint he had to keep himself from attacking the smug teenager with the intent of killing him. Or maybe just seriously injure him. Doug kept his arms folded across his chest to help prevent any sort of burning urge to take action, and he had been advised by Fuller to leave the interrogation to Ioki and not say a word. He stayed away from the table Benton and Ioki were sitting at, keeping near the wall of the small room and staring maliciously at Danny from where he stood.

“You pathetic excuse for cops would still be working with nothing if that faggot had kept his fucking mouth shut,” Danny spat venomously. “Because that’s the only way you confirmed it was me, wasn’t it?”
“Do you understand the severity of the situation you’re in?” Ioki asked calmly. “These are some seriously heavy charges against you. You’re looking at probably more than twenty years in prison because you will be charged as an adult. Now, if you cooperate with us, we can get you a somewhat lighter sentence.”
“What information would I have to give up?”
“The location where you’re holding Officer Hanson hostage. You give a little, I’ll give a little.”
“I don’t think so. Besides, he’s really enjoying his stay in that basement; he can’t wait to spread his legs for whoever comes down there.”

The thin string of patience snapped, and Doug was diving across the table before anyone knew what was happening. The chair Danny was sitting in toppled backward, and he landed on the tiled floor with the sturdy officer straddling his waist. Large, strong hands went about his neck, choking him. Fuller burst into the room with a few other men, and with the help of Ioki, they were able to pry Doug off of the young man and escort him out the door.

Needless to say, he was not permitted back in to observe the rest of the questioning first-hand.

****
Time was running out. There were two days left; tomorrow, Hanson would be killed. Danny was not divulging even the tiniest amount of information, much to the dismay of everyone at Jump Street. Having everything right in front of them caused Doug to almost crumble under the stress that had been building for the past two weeks. He dragged himself to work, but did not necessarily get anything done.

Aimlessly, he drew different things on a piece of paper and blocked out all the noise around him. His head rested on his arm, which was perched near the edge of his desk. He did not realize that he was re-writing the figures Tom had outlined on his back until he was done with the second character. Curiously, he lifted his head and stared blankly at the paper, not surprised when he still could not discern what it was.

“What were you trying to tell me, Tommy?” he whispered to himself. “I don’t see it.”

When Judy began walking past him, he stopped her and handed her the piece of paper.

“What do you think that is?” he inquired indifferently.
She gazed at it, turning it to look at it from various angles. “Am I supposed to know?”
“No. Maybe.” He sighed and shook his head. “What if I told you it was really important that we decipher it?”
“Why’s that?”
“Because….Tom wrote it on my back,” he stated softly.
Judy eyed him carefully. “What are you talking about, Doug?”
“Listen, I….They let me see him a few nights ago for six hundred bucks-”
“What?!”
“Shhh!” he quickly hushed her. “Keep it down. I don’t want anyone knowing. I’ll explain later. But Tom – his fingers made those on me, but I couldn’t figure it out.”
She frowned and inspected the pencil markings again. “It doesn’t look like letters to me. Maybe two backwards ‘b’s and one strange looking ‘e’. Or….” After a brief moment, she gasped and her eyes widened.
“What is it?”
“Look! I was right. It’s not letters; it’s numbers. Since it would’ve been backwards from your point of view, we have to flip it around….Six, six, three.”
“What is that? A house number or something?” he asked anxiously.
“Could be. Nothing else comes to mind.”
“Then we have to find the house with that number. Plus, it has to be by all the destinations we know are around it.”

The faded hope he had lost long ago returned once again, more powerful than before.

****
Tom did not know why, but the absence of Danny made him wholly unsettled. Perhaps it was because the four left seemed more menacing without him. And they acted like it. The bathtub had been filled with the hottest water, and they had lowered him into it without mentioning whether it would be freezing or scorching. He had expected it to be the former, and was terribly shocked when he found it to be the other extreme.

Eric and Andrew kept him completely submerged beneath the water’s surface by pushing the end of the baseball bat onto his stomach and the plunger on his legs. The instruments held him in place for one minute and then were set aside in order to lift him out of the water. He only had ten seconds to catch his breath and take another deep one before they immersed him in the scalding liquid again. After four rounds with the searing water, a ten minute long cold shower followed. The treatment switched between the two extreme torments for approximately an hour before he was taken to the bed and sodomized with the plunger’s handle, which was drenched with hot water.

They at last let him alone when midnight came, leaving merely thirteen hours for him to live.

****
The location they had gone to was not the correct one. The mistake made Doug feel ill, and he had to step away from the group of cops to vomit in the grass. He checked his watch and had the overwhelming urge to break into tears. There was less than two hours before all of their efforts proved in vain and useless.

This can’t be happening. Everything we need is right in front of us; we can’t let them win. We can’t let him down now that we’re so close.

Once they were back at the chapel, he started mapping out and looking up other possible places that fit the description. His frantic demeanor compromised his concentration several times, causing him to get up from his desk and take a short walk around the room to clear his head whenever it did.

The time he had been obsessed over slipped by without him noticing due to his mind being utterly consumed with his search efforts. Everything fell silent the instant the alarm went off, and Doug swallowed hard.

“Oh no,” he whispered sorrowfully. “God, no.”

Fretfully, he brought the website up on his computer and blinked rapidly to clear his vision from the impending tears.

**
Nothing had to be said; Tom knew why they were there this time. Something was unusual, and he had no doubts as to what it was. It was more of a feeling than anything.

He would not see them again after this round. They were here to wrap up their snuff film by taking it to the most extreme level yet in order to snatch away his life.

Immense joy erupted within him, and he could not help but give a tiny smile as they treaded to him. He had prepared himself for this moment, murmured his goodbyes to those he cared for the previous night, and surrendered everything he had. There would be no fight. No pleas for forgiveness or mercy. He was ready for the eternal peace that was waiting for him.

And then his blissful mindset faltered.

Doug.

It felt like a dagger sheathing itself in his heart from the myriad of memories that danced through his head of him and the older cop. He would never see his partner again; never laugh at the man’s somewhat childish antics; never get the chance to share his bed and fall asleep in Doug’s protective embrace, knowing that everything was as it should be because Doug was there. His expression morphed to one of incredible regret as he suddenly worried about how his partner would deal with his absence. He had never wanted to hurt Doug in any way, but he knew it was inevitable now; even if he did put up a great struggle, he was not going to change his fate and get out alive.

“You ready to die, Tommy?” Derick asked unsympathetically.
I’m sorry, Doug, but I can’t take any more. I’m sorry I can’t even try. With a slow nod, Tom answered exceptionally quietly, “Yes. I’m ready to die.”

They pulled him by his left wrist to the center of the area, released him, and began their task. The first bout of hits came from clenched fists and boot-clad feet. His bottom lip split open and bled, along with his nose and various contusions on his head. He only began to scream when they twisted his ankles a number of times and struck his broken feet with the baseball bat they had grown accustomed to.

The sledgehammer Danny had used to cripple the two appendages made another appearance. Tom’s watery, half-way opened eyes watched as Travis drew it back and brought it down on his right knee. A loud cry of sheer agony ripped itself from his throat. No crawling away now even if he wanted to, he thought. The knife Andrew utilized to create numerous gashes on his calves and arms hardly registered, though he felt the sharp pain the instant the blade sunk into his left thigh. Red liquid oozed from the wound and trailed down to paint the already blood-smeared cement ground.

They tossed him around like a dog’s chew-toy, punching, smashing, punishing. His face was gruesomely battered and bruised, swollen, and bleeding; tear drops mixed with the crimson jewels leaking from his injuries. He gasped frenziedly for air, feeling as if someone was squeezing his lungs and pounding on his chest. The raspy breaths sounded like he was a fish washed up on the shore. No matter how hard he tried to breathe normally, he could merely lay panting shallowly.

Unable to move himself, Eric lifted him up to sit to bring the lengthy beating to a close, and he slumped forward exhaustedly. He caught sight of the bat being twirled around in Derick’s hand, and his cracked and busted lips turned upward into a smile. A hoarse laugh sounded from his dry throat as the weapon moved closer.

This was it. At last, it would be over.

The bat made extraordinarily strong contact with his forehead, and Tom Hanson collapsed onto his back in a pool of his own blood, eyes closed, and did not move or utter another noise again.

**
Nobody said anything. Nobody made the slightest movement.

Doug stared, eyes dilated with horror and anger, at the screen with his mouth opened in astonishment and tears streaming down his cheeks.

“No,” he spoke in an extremely soft voice. “No. No!” he shouted madly. “No!”

He bolted up from his chair, grabbed the computer’s keyboard, and hurled it at the wall on the opposite side of the room. His hands moved to throw the monitor after it, but he was stopped by Ioki and Booker taking hold of him and easing him to the floor. Heartbreaking yells continued to pour from his mouth as the two men attempted to sedate him. Judy rushed to him and knelt at his side to aid in the effort. She extended her arms out to him, and he fell into her embrace like a helpless infant. He grabbed onto the sleeve of her sweater and balled the fabric up in his fist. His entire body was shaking from the fierce sobs he emitted.

Tom was dead, murdered right before his eyes. The promise he had made to the younger man was broken and unfulfilled. He felt as if everything had been torn apart; everything was crashing down. That was it – they had lost. They had failed Tom in the worst way possible by not saving him as they had sworn to do.

Tom was dead, and Doug could blame no one but himself for it.

****
The image was black where the video feed had been showing. All the cameras had turned off, yet the site still existed. Photos remained posted that showcased what Tom had gone through in case anyone had missed the live coverage of his captivity. Comments could still be made, most of them containing harsh words about Tom or praises for his death. The countdown clock read nothing but zeros, and the visitor tally almost exceeded three million hits. The webpage had stayed on Doug’s monitor after the execution, and he periodically glanced at it as if expecting a camera would turn back on and reveal that it was all just a joke and Tom was not, in fact, gone. No such thing happened.

He wandered around the chapel aimlessly as if in a daze, not speaking to anyone and detesting the looks of pity he was constantly being showered with. None of them could understand or even contemplate how awful he felt, and he could not tell them why it wounded him so viciously; he did not have it in him to admit that he loved his partner dearly and had desired to have something much more than just a friendship with the younger man.

From where he was sitting at the table in the middle of the area, he observed Danny Benton’s parents being led by Booker to the single locked cell in the room where their son had been confined to. He heard their annoyed demands as to why Danny had been arrested and then ignored whatever explanation Booker gave them. There were the familiar threats of bringing their lawyer into the situation and having their son refuse to answer any questions until said lawyer was present. Booker did not look impressed, nor rattled by their angry voices. He allotted them five minutes to converse with their son before he began escorting them out. Doug stood, bringing their attention on him, and they abruptly started toward him. As he watched their advance, he vowed to keep silent until whatever they had to say to him was said.

“This is your partner’s fault,” Mrs. Benton spat. “He brought it upon himself the moment he shot and killed my oldest son.”
Penhall suddenly did not feel so bad about breaking his promise of staying quiet early as he replied evenly, “I’m sorry, but I don’t think anyone brings the sorts of things they did to Tom on by themselves. Have you seen what they’ve done? Because three million other people have.”
“What are you talking about?”
“They filmed him every second of every day and broadcasted it on their own little website. My partner….Your son led all of the attacks. They tortured him consecutively for two weeks – beat him, raped him, burned him, violated every part of him – and yet you still side with your son, no matter what appalling shit he’s done. If you wanted Officer Hanson to pay for what he did to your family, then Merry Christmas; he has. They broke him and killed him.”

The stunned expressions and feeble attempts to cut him off did not phase Doug whatsoever, and he continued on spilling everything he was feeling to them.

“Look, I know the pain you’re in now from losing someone you care about. And I know how badly Tom felt for shooting your son because he lost his father to a gunshot wound. But you have to see how wrong Danny was to go after him, how wrong it was to brutalize him until his death.

He won’t tell us what they’ll do to his body, or what they have done. Maybe he’ll confess to you, so I’m begging you – please try to find out where they may have abandoned him or what the street name is that the house is on. I want him to have a proper burial and all that; he deserves to have at least that. You’d be….doing a Christmas miracle. Please. It’s....all I ask for.”

A few minutes later, the exact address of the house was revealed, along with another important location. Tom Hanson would not be discovered in the basement where he had been kept; he had been transported to a vacant area several miles outside of the city.

****
The snow had begun as nothing but a drizzle, but now, large flakes were coming down heavily. Everyone was bundled up in winter coats, scarves, and gloves to keep warm as the search commenced in the extremely early hours of the morning. Half a dozen cop vehicles were parked at the edge of the field near the deserted road, shining their blue and red lights that illuminated only a little of the vast expanse of land. Flashlights danced around in the dark night as people trudged across the dry ground, which was rapidly being blanketed by snow. Dogs ran by, sniffing diligently for a scent, and their trainers trailed behind them.

Doug’s heart was racing from the adrenaline coursing through him. He detoured from the grove of trees he had meandered to back into the open field, his eyes scouring the ground for any sign of his partner.

A set of train tracks cut across the area, and he followed a couple of other search-party members over them to the second half of the field. He was shivering uncontrollably, feeling slightly numb, but pushed himself to ignore the sensations and focus on the pending task.

“Please, God,” he whispered, seeing his breath filter out of his mouth due to the chilly air. “Please let us find him. Just so he can be put to rest like he should be, not left out here alone to rot.”

It was only one dog barking at first; a second joined it seconds later. Something had been discovered. It was confirmed the instant he heard someone yell, “Over here!”

Doug bounded for the source of the voice, The dogs and a small group of cops standing nearby came into view a number of yards away from where Doug had initially been. Not far from the tracks, they had gathered around a dark shape on the ground. Doug pushed them aside, knelt beside the covered figure, and felt as if he would explode from the intense anxiety he had. It was a maroon colored sleeping bag, and there was absolutely something in it. Hurriedly, he tore off his gloves and reached for the zipper. He undid it almost halfway and ceased to breathe. The image he had been dreading to see was finally in front of him.

Tom Hanson’s body was contorted into a painful-looking position, his eyes were shut, and his violet lips were pressed together. His skin was unbelievably pale, making the bruises that seemed to be everywhere on him stand out vividly like a nasty stain. He wore no clothes, and his flesh felt like an icicle.

“Oh god, Tommy,” Doug choked out. “I’m so sorry.”

The younger cop’s hair was wet with blood from the gaping wound on his head. His thigh was coated with the substance as well. Doug averted his gaze for a brief period, trying to gain control of himself. When he settled his eyes on Tom’s lifeless frame once more, he frowned. Gently, he placed his hand on Tom’s chest and immediately felt his heart speed up to an ungodly rate again.

Tom was not lifeless at all; he was alive, if just barely.

“We need an ambulance! He’s alive!” he shouted before sliding his arms underneath Hanson’s limp body and got to his feet. He darted over the tracks and quickly made his way to the parked police cars. An ambulance had been brought along with the purpose of transporting the deceased man back to the city, but the EMS crew now worked to prepare it for carrying a critically injured patient.

Doug laid his partner on the stretcher, watched them strap him down to it, and helped them lift him into the back of the vehicle to place him on a gurney. Wasting no time, they were inserting needles into his skin for IV’s and shoving a tube down his throat to intubate him. An oxygen bag was hooked to the end of the tube poking out of his mouth and squeezed every three seconds to help him breathe.

The doors were shut, and Doug could not see anymore. The ambulance started to move and was soon rushing toward the hospital with sirens wailing.

“Doug! Come on!”

He whirled on his heels to catch Booker motioning for him to get in his car.

Shortly after the ambulance’s departure, Booker’s vehicle was chasing it with the gas pedal floored.