Good intentions, bad mistake
“Wait,” he gasped as Simons turned to leave.
“What?” he snapped, turning a fierce look towards Mikey.
“My… my inhaler.”
Simons mouth turned up at the ends as he watched Mikey desperately trying to keep a panic attack at bay.
“What’s the matter, Mikey, someone taken it?”
“Please…” he wheezed. “I… need it.”
Simons nodded and stepped towards the chained and bound bassist, reaching into his pocket as he moved closer.
Still breathless, Mikey raised a hand expectantly as Simons drew his hand from his pocket. Instead of the inhaler, he drew out the small taser that he had used on Gerard only a couple of days earlier. Pushing it into Mikey’s chest, Simons laughed harshly as Mikey tensed uncontrollably; his face contorted in agony. Pulling the unit away as Mikey’s eyes rolled back in their sockets, Simons allowed himself a slow and spiteful chuckle.
“See?” he said as Mikey’s breathing slipped to a rate so shallow and faint that it almost matched Frank’s. “You just needed to relax, that’s all.”
It had seemed like an unnaturally long day, yet one that was over in the blink of an eye. Eddie had not long since faxed a complete list of security guard details including names, rosters and background information over to Brian and now returned to the band’s bus. Showing his pass to the guard standing outside the door, he stepped inside.
Looking in the fridge, Eddie nodded to himself and withdrew a carton of juice.
“Yeah?” he asked lifting the carton to show the three friends.
Ray nodded. “Thanks, Eddie.”
“Please,” Bob raised a half smile.
“No, thanks,” Gerard replied. “I’ll have a coffee.”
“It’s late, have some juice.”
“No thanks, Eddie, I'd prefer a coffee,” Gerard replied with a determined expression fixed to his face.
“Come on, Gee, you’ll be up all night, have some juice or a soda.”
Gerard shot the tour manager a glare. “You don’t really believe I’ll sleep do you?”
“You have to at least try,” Eddie reasoned with him.
Gerard sighed and continued, his voice stiff from trying to hold a polite tone despite wanting to explode with sheer exasperation. “I don’t want a juice or a soda and I don’t care what it’ll do to me, I just want a coffee.”
“There’s no point arguing with him,” Bob advised. “It doesn’t matter how much sense you make.”
Gerard rolled his eyes. “I just want a fu…”
“Okay!” Eddie cut in. “Coffee! I get it!”
“Gee,” Ray began quietly as Eddie headed for the kitchen.
“I know,” Gerard replied stiffly. “You don’t have to say it, I know.”
Ray nodded and sat back in the chair. They were all dealing with this in their own way and right now, Ray recognised that Gerard just wanted to be left alone to think.
Returning minutes later with the drinks, Eddie offered a comforting smile to each of them in turn. As Eddie handed Gerard the steaming mug, the singer looked up; his expressive eyes saying more with one look than any number of words could.
“Everyone’s on it, Gee,” Eddie nodded reassuringly, “we’ll find them.”
Gerard nodded and all four men exchanged faint smiles; they had to believe it.
Within fifteen minutes, Ray leaned on the table and rested his chin in his hand, his eyes closing and opening as he took a deep breath.
“Eddie,” Gerard chewed his lower lip, “you make a lousy cup of coffee.”
Ray let out a short derisory laugh. “Somehow he makes a pretty lousy juice too.”
Bob, who by now was leaning back against the wall, opened his eyes and turned them towards Eddie suspiciously. The same thought that had suggested itself to Bob occurred now to all three and Gerard pushed his half drunk coffee away.
“What did you put in it, Eddie?” Gerard growled.
“Just a mild sedative,” he nodded. “Just something to help you sleep. It’s prescription, nothing illegal.”
The effects of the drug were unrelenting and Gerard was finding it hard to concentrate. Ray and Bob, who had long since finished their juice and had consequently taken a full dose were now struggling to keep focussed.
“Why don’t you get some sleep?” Eddie suggested.
Gerard frowned as his eyes began to feel heavy. “You haven’t really given us much choice, have you?”
“No,” Eddie replied honestly. “But it’s for your own good. There’ll be a guard here all night, you’ll be quite safe.”
The three musicians staggered to their feet, and with Eddie’s help, headed towards the bunk room. Without even the energy or inclination to remove their clothes, they flopped down onto their bunks and fell almost immediately into dreamless sleep.
Stepping outside, Eddie smiled as he noticed the guard already waiting outside.
“Sorry you got the night shift,” he greeted him cheerfully.
“That’s okay,” he replied with a shrug. “I’ve been off duty all day, so I’m wide awake.”
“I hope you weren’t counting on company. Should be a pretty quiet night, they’re sleeping.”
“Sleeping?” he tilted his head. “I thought they’d be up all night.”
“Well,” Eddie smiled, “we kinda slipped them something just to make sure they got some rest.”
“That was very thoughtful of you,” he gave a broad smile in return.
Eddie shrugged again. “Goodnight, Josh.”
Watching the tour manager walk away, Josh Simons’ smile broadened still further as he thought about his sedated victims sleeping peacefully inside; unaware of what he had in store for them. He certainly wasn’t complaining, but he couldn’t help but feel completely stunned at how incredibly easy they were making this for him.