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The Ticking End

Prelude

Six months ago:

"It doesn't have to be like this. You know that... It can end a different way." The boy's innocent rambling was amusing, bringing a ghostly white smile to his captors face. "I swear to you, my parents will pay you whatever you want. And my uncle can make the cops leave you alone. Just please... Don't kill me." The last words were sobbed more then spoken. It was something the captor didn't really like much.

In fact, he hated when they broke down at the end like this. Hated when they turned from the big strong men they portrayed themselves as, to these sniveling little babies. He set the timer on the device leveled at the boy's chest, then turned on the camera and walked from the room. He could hear the boy cry out for him to wait, to come back and let him go, but the captor didn't stop. He walked out into the viewing area that he had set up for himself and plopped into his overstuffed computer chair. He slowly swiveled to look at the screen, his prisoners weeping face all but making his cries for help seem more pathetic then they already were.

"Pathetic little bastard..." The man growled at the screen, his expression barely even twitching as a slightly tin sounding bell rang out over his computer speakers. Not more then a few milliseconds later, a loud shot rang out from behind the door the man had closed. Delayed by the necessity to travel through microchips and wires, the initial sound was echoed a split second later by itself as it played through his computer speakers.

"Another one bites the dust..." The man couldn't help but laugh at himself as he typed the over used expression into the text editing screen of his movie editor, setting it to play after the scene of the dead boy faded out. It didn't take the man long to upload the video, and even less time before he saw the number of views climbing to the hundreds, then thousands. A particular comment caught his eye, forcing him to scroll back through the dozens that had almost instantly cropped up on his video page.

"I'm playing now..." The message was one he had been waiting for since he started his little game. And he was more then a little excited that the main event could finally begin.

Chapter 1

Present day:

"Sheriff, you know it's not going to do us any good to beat yourself up over this..." The female deputy was leaning against the doorjamb of the conference room that had been converted into a command center for the current investigation. "You couldn't have known that we wouldn't find him in time." The sheriff shot her an angry glare, trying his best not to blow his top at her. She could see it in his face that he was holding onto civility with every ounce of his strength.

"He wasn't dead until exactly ten thirty-seven p.m. last night..." The sheriff calmly growled. His voice was thick and aggressive for someone as far north as Wisconsin, and Carla had often mused that he had to have come up here from somewhere in Tennessee or Alabama. This wasn't one of the times for musing however, more the time for consoling her friend and boss.

"We were all out trying to save him and catch this sick son of a bitch. There was no way that you could have known that he was dead until we got the call." The fact did little to calm the sheriff. It was obvious that he wasn't going to forgive himself for failing to catch the kidnapper that had not only taken his brother, but tortured and killed him in a way to unspeakable to mention.

Carla knew it was probably a mistake to mention it, but she knew that nothing was going to make it easier for the sheriff to accept other then time, which they were painfully short of. "The mayor has decided to call in the feds..." She winced as he whipped around at her. Not out of fear of being hit, but fear of his anger. She knew without a sliver of doubt that her boss would never raise a hand to her, but nothing on earth could shield her from the brutal strength of his rage. After a moment, when he had realized that she jumped from his gaze, he quickly turned away and muttered a curse under his breath.

"I'm sorry Carla. I don't mean to be angry at you. I'm just frustrated." Carla nodded her understanding, knowing he saw the gesture.

"It isn't easy working with you..." She joked dryly. "When you could make a bear run in fear when you're this pissed." She hoped that the little joke would distract him enough to calm him down, but realized quickly that if anything, it just made him more frustrated.

"I should have been able to save him..." The sheriff growled to himself, still not daring to look back at his deputy. Carla could see the pain of loss and failure beginning to creep into the sheriff's face.

"If you think you're any better then the last ten sheriffs that tried to stop this guy, then you're sorely mistaken..." Both Carla and the Sheriff turned to the doorway where the voice had come from. The man who had so rudely interrupted could have passed as anything from the head C.E.O. of a major fortune five hundred company to a model in a mens magazine.

He wasn't overly tall at about six foot two, but what he lacked in height he sure made up for in presence. His handsome features were almost too perfect to be human, from his chiseled and obviously strong jaw, to his sharp blue eyes that could make anyone shiver with their intensity, if he so chose to look at them hard enough.

"John Charles...F.B.I." He answered before the question could be asked. Carla couldn't help but to stair at him as he walked over to the desk and extended a powerful hand for a greeting handshake. His hair was short, but not overly, having just enough length that you could tell the fade from blond to dark brown at the scalp was natural. Even his nose was almost to perfect to be real. No bump on the bridge or bend from being broken.

The sheriff wasn't as awe struck as his deputy, extending his own hand and accepting the agent's shake with a dispassionate sigh. "Sheriff Mike Lenten." Carla spoke up next, her daze from the agent's features all but faded.

"Last ten?" She questioned quietly. "He's done this ten times before this?" Her awe was obvious, but soon trumped.

"Actually, if we are to believe this isn't a copycat, then he's done it at least fifteen.

Chapter 2

"Jesus... You say he's been doing this for at least the last two years?" John nodded in the affirmative, his eyes flashing a bit deeper blue, then returning to there slightly pale hue. "And every time, he video-tapes them while he kills them?"

This time the agent shook his head. "He doesn't kill them himself. He build contraptions to kill them. From what we've seen of his work, he's not overly smart. Just good enough to build something that'll do the job."

The sheriff winced at the last word, thinking back to the look on his brother's face as the skill saw slowly carved it's way into his groin, then increased in speed as it climbed up his chest, until it finally tore through his neck when his head slumped to the side, and moved out of the camera's view.

The whole event had been recorded, then posted on a shock video site where it was soon viewed by over half a million people. The sheriff could feel his anger growing again when he remembered the little phrase that the sick bastard had added to every one of his videos.

"So let me get this strait..." Mike finally responded. "He's been actively kidnaping and killing people for two years now and you feds haven't even come close to catching him?" The question was more mocking then the agent would have liked, but he didn't let it show.

"Every time he strikes, he changes his M.O. just enough that we don't know it's him. That is, until the first video shows up." John was referring to the preliminary video that the killer had sent out after capturing his prey.

In these videos, the killer would usually show his victim bound to a chair in a dark room. Usually, with only a single light source above the hostage so that the room itself was nearly invisible. Other times, with more lighting, he would cover the walls with black fabric to block out anything that would identify the location.

"The first video is the start of his game." John said calmly, turning to his laptop where he had graphed a time line of all the abductions so far. He could tell without looking that the sheriff was even more enraged by the 'game' comment, but continued anyway. "He wants us to know that he's got the victim. It isn't uncommon for him to be working on whatever device he's cooked up to kill the victim on the first video either." Carla nodded her understanding, looking over John's shoulder to examine the time line.

"It's usually two or three days after he takes them that he begins to issue his challenge and give clues." The sheriff came over to John as well, looking over his free shoulder as the agent opened a copy of one of the posted videos.

"Ok kiddies!" The overly cheery voice on the video started. "It's time for round one." The entire time that the voice was speaking in the background, the camera was moving around the hostage, their mouth gagged to keep them from screaming and thus drowning out the clue.

"First off, lets introduce today's contestant. Meet Todd Myers. He's an accountant from Texas Star Insurance Agency. Todd here has been a naught little boy, haven't you Todd." A black gloved hand reached out and gripped the bound man by the hair, forcibly shaking the man's head in the affirmative. Then the voice continued.

"Not only has our Todd been embezzling funds from the company, but he's been using those funds to do some rather disgusting things. I'm sure there are a few people out there who know what I'm talking about." Carla and Mike watched as the video panned wider, showing what looked like a collection of knives hanging from a network of pipes on the ceiling.

"Our first clue is that Todd is being held in one of the locations that he's used to keep his dirty little secret. And just so you don't read too much into that..." Mike turned slightly to look at Carla over John's shoulder, his confusion returned when she glanced over to him. "...He's been doing this for a long time now. I doubt that it's going to give you cops out there much to go on, but at least it's something."

The video faded out without another sound, the knives hanging over Todd a grim reminder of what happened to the accountant just a few short months ago. John closed the video window and sat back in his chair with a sigh.

"Wait..." Mike and John both turned to her as Carla began scratching her chin in thought. "From this time line, he must be accelerating in his attacks." John nodded a yes to her, his own voice deepened with his own frustration finally.

"He's not only accelerating, he's getting a bit more inventive with his methods." Neither Carla or Mike had to ask what the agent had meant.

Chapter 3

It was dark out by the time that Sam had reached the small motel where he had made his reservation. The man at the desk was more then a little annoyed to be working there, a fact that was evident in his voice..

"Check out is at eleven, no exceptions. That means unless you plan to stay more then the three days, then I better see more cash before noon on Friday." Sam didn't bother to reply, merely taking his key and walking back outside. It had been a while since Sam had stayed anywhere that printed the room number on it's key, let alone used a real key.

With a deep sigh, Sam climbed back into his car and drove down the almost empty lot of the motel. He parked the beat up old chevy sedan in front of the door to his room and shut off the ignition, but didn't immediately get out. Instead, closing his eyes, Sam began to concentrate on what he felt.

"Typical whore haunt..." He finally sighed, opening the door of the car and climbing out before locking it and slamming it shut. He walked around to the back and popped the truck, grabbing a duffle bag and then slamming the lid shut as well.

Sam hated that you always seemed to have to slam things shut on older cars, but didn't give it much more thought then that. He turned and walked up to the door of his room, stopping at the door to insert the key and unlock it before pausing to let a brief stint of nausea pass.

Another thing he hated was the fact that he was pushing himself so hard that his body was literally revolting against him. He noticed that he seemed to be hating a lot of things these days.

Shara was you're typical little town, John noticed. A few family run businesses here and there, a chain store or two, maybe a motel. It was just by luck that he had found the little motel's web site while he was doing research into Shara's past.

John wondered idly where he and his fellow agent would have ended up if he hadn't found the dive of an establishment. As he made his way into the parking lot, He couldn't help but notice a beat up old chevy joining the rusted out ford of the owner and the other typical black government sedan that signaled that his partner was finally in town.

He pulled up next to the other "fed special", the nickname that he and his fellow agents had given to the non-discript black sedans, and quickly got out. Instead of heading to his room, the agent headed for the neighboring door. His knock was short but loud, clearly intended to draw attention with the first attempt. It didn't take long for the door to open with an annoying creak.

"Well, bless my stars and garters..." The Norwegian phrase said in agent Rachel Daniels' deep southern accent was just enough to draw a chuckle from her fellow agent. She stepped aside to let John enter, her own amusement showing by nothing more then an unusually large smile.

Agent Daniels' appearance wasn't quite as striking as her fellow agent, but Rachel would definitely be hard to miss most times. At five foot even, she found herself always looking up at people, but was usually looked up too. Growing up with four older brothers with no mother gave her an attitude and confidant that was seemingly unmatched by any woman that John had ever met.

Her amber eyes nearly glowed with amusement as she shut the door and leaned against it, folding her arms over her chest. "So I take it we're going to get our usual reception when we're officially introduced tomorrow?" John took a minute to study her before he responded, almost always slightly entranced by her.

He still couldn't figure out how she managed to keep her centerfold measurements with the junk food that a life of traveling demanded. Never mind the fact that she never really seemed to need makeup to look mysterious and gorgeous at the same time. Her shoulder length auburn hair always seemed to be perfect no matter how many hours the two of them seemed to work on a case, and yet even when it was messed it still made her striking.

"Well, if we can manage to find the sheriff's brother before the rats get to him like the last guy, I think we might score some points." Rachel didn't even flinch at the memory of the gruesome sight that had awaited them at the last murder sight.

It took the agents much longer then they would have liked to find the body of the victim, and the rats had taken advantage of the fat man as an abundant food supply.

Sam knew that he was being pulled into another dream. Just like all the ones before, this one started with him sitting in a car. No matter how hard he tried, Sam couldn't seem to turn his head. He never could. By now he had figured out that these 'dreams' were nothing more then flashes of memory. Unfortunately, the memories weren't his.

Too many times now, Sam had fought with all the will he could muster to either pull himself out of the memories, or at the very least change them. But it was always pointless. As soon as he saw the focus of the dream turn to a man walking out of a building and head over to his car, Sam knew that the clock had started ticking.

He could feel his hand, or at least the hand of the man in his dream, start his car and follow the man who quickly sped away from the ramshackle building that he had been in for the past two hours.

The shift from dream to awake was always so sudden that it was hard to tell. Sam had begun hanging a piece of paper from the ceiling above the bed that he was sleeping in just so he would have something to focus on. Something to tell him that he was back in the waking world.

He stared at the blank white rectangle for a short time, wanting to go back into the dream to see if he could learn anything new that might help him find out just who the next target was. Who was next in this sick game that had taken him all over the country for so long now that Sam wasn't even sure when it had started. He waited a few minutes before finally pushing himself to a seated position and reaching over to the nightstand where his laptop sat.

It was already on and open, the screen saver of a bouncing sphere disappearing as soon as he touched the mouse pad. The screen instantly shifted to an open web page, one containing some of the sickest things that Sam could have gone his whole life without seeing.

Sam refreshed the page a few times, then scrolled down through the most recently added videos. He was looking for a particular user name, one that had burned itself into his memory like a piece of film that had been over exposed. His sigh of relief was audible when he was sure that there was no new posting from the user. A quick double, then tipple check confirmed that the video he was expecting wasn't there.

"Looks like you don't get your head start this time..." He quietly but confidently told the empty room.