The Longest Winter by Harrison Drake Read Free Book Online

had seen people under stress before, but there was something different. He was afraid; Jacques could see that - afraid that Claude’s escape would lead to him being caught. That was why they had moved. But there was something else he could see in the man, something he wasn’t sure could be real.
    He seemed sad.
    Jacques pushed the thought away. That couldn’t be it. He was probably just upset that he was going to be caught. The man hadn’t said it, but Jacques knew Claude had gotten away.
    “I caught him,” he had said when he returned. “And I killed him for trying to get away.”
    Jacques believed him at first and had broken down completely, but when the man grabbed him and took him from the house he thought maybe there was something else going on. Jacques had been dragged through the snow, his mouth gagged and a blindfold placed over his eyes, then he had been thrown into the trunk of a car a distance away. He wasn’t sure how far they had driven, but it seemed like it had taken forever. His one attempt at escape, kicking at the taillights, had been met with the car coming to a sharp stop and the man opening the trunk.
    “Do that again and I will kill you.”
    He slammed the trunk lid shut and Jacques stayed still for the remainder of the trip. When the man stopped again, he opened the trunk, lifted Jacques out and carried him a short distance. A few doors were opened and closed and some stairs climbed before Jacques was put down.
    The sound of footsteps and a door closing and locking told Jacques he was alone. He rubbed his face against his shoulder until he was able to loosen the blindfold. The room was larger than the last one, and it looked more like the inside of an actual house. The floor was wooden, that ugly pattern Jacques couldn’t remember the name of. The room was completely devoid of furniture. He wasn’t sure if this was a temporary thing or where he was going to be staying, but at least it was warmer than the previous place.
    Jacques finished looking around the room; there was no chance of escape. The only door was locked and the window behind him was barred. If he were going to escape he’d have to overpower the man, something he knew he couldn’t do without a weapon or some other advantage.
    He hadn’t slept well that night. The pain in his wrists and ankles was too much for him to find any comfortable position. He believed his brother was dead and cried whenever he thought of him. As much as it pained him to consider it at all, he hoped that the man had made it quick. Jacques lay there that night, thinking of his brother, tears streaming down his bruised face, wishing it had been him instead. All he wanted was for his brother to have had a chance. But there was a part of him he hated to acknowledge, a part of him that told him Claude was the lucky one. He didn’t have to suffer anymore. They were probably going to die - Jacques had believed that from the beginning - and if he was right, then Claude’s fate had come early and with it he had been saved from untold pain and suffering.
    The man spent that night pacing in the halls, muttering to himself. Jacques had listened to him, straining to hear what he was saying as he walked up and down the hallway.
    “You idiot,” he finally heard him say. “You let him get away.”
    Jacques perked up immediately, his spirits lifted. He was elated; there was almost nothing that could bring him down at that point. Claude was alive, and he was free. That was why the man had moved him. He was worried about being caught now that Claude had gotten away. Claude would get help, he would tell the police everything. Jacques found himself believing, for the first time in what seemed like ages, that he stood a chance of survival. Someone would find him. Claude would make certain of that.
    The sound of someone approaching brought Jacques back to the present. He looked at the door and waited. When it opened the man stood there, a plate of food and a glass of water