"I feel so claustrophobic here
Watch out! Now you better disappear
You can't make me stay
I'll break away"

CHAPTER SIX: ICH BRECH AUS


“Honey, do you have your sleeping bag?” The female voice drifted up the stairs as Gustav sat in the hall, struggling to shove a few last minute items into his bag.

“Yeah, mom. I’m fifteen, not five,” Gustav called back, rolling his eyes. “Only a moron would go camping without a sleeping bag.”

“Last I checked, you were a pretty big moron,” his sister said, thumping him on the head as she passed. Gustav made a finger gesture that their mother would probably not have approved of.

After shoving one last pair of socks into a tiny space in the corner of the bag, Gustav decided that no more could fit. He hefted the large backpack up onto his shoulders, then began his descent down the stairs.

Before departing, Gustav stopped in the kitchen to pick up a waffle, which his mother had just finished toasting. He crammed it quickly into his mouth.

“Thanks mom,” he said around the waffle. His mother turned around.

“That’s an awfully big bag,” she remarked. “Are you sure you want to lug that around school all day? I can drop it off at the Kaulitz’s for you, if you want me to.”

“I’ll be okay, mom. It’s not that heavy. Besides, they do have these things called lockers, which hold stuff,” Gustav said. His mother frowned and put her hands on her hips. Gustav knew that a lecture was probably forthcoming, and sighed to himself.

“Now, I know you boys are going to want to have fun while you’re out there, but make sure you stay safe, okay? The woods are big and I don’t want anything to happen to you. There are a lot of things that could happen to you if you’re not careful.” Gustav rolled his eyes again.

“I’ll be careful,” he said. “I promise. Nothing is going to happen.”

“Are you sure you’re feeling well enough to go? You were so sick a few days ago,” his mother commented, frowning at her son.

“Mom, I’m fine. It was just a cold, not cancer. Now can I go?” Gustav asked impatiently.

“Well, okay, honey. I’ll see you in ten days. Be good!”

His mother gave him a quick hug, before Gustav pushed open the screen door and disappeared.


It was an unseasonably cold day, for springtime. Gustav could see his breath as he walked; he hoped it would get warmer by the afternoon, because he didn’t fancy camping outside in the cold.

Despite the cold, however, Gustav was beginning to be in a very good mood. He had finally, after about a week of pestering his parents, gotten permission to go on the camping trip. In fact, his parents had only given him permission to go the night before; he hadn’t even been able to call his friends to let them know. As far as he knew, his friends didn’t even know he was coming.

Good thing it’s just as easy to go camping with four people as it is with three, he thought, Or else it might be a problem that they don’t know I’m coming yet!

Gustav walked on in cheery silence. The memory of his mother's nagging was beginning to slip away, and the closer he got to school, the more excited he got about their trip. He had never been allowed so far from home, and for so long, without adult supervision before. Finally, the boys could have a really good time.

He was nearing the halfway point of his walk to school, an old rotten stump that jutted through the broken-up sidewalk, when a dirty yellow minibus, half a block in front of him, caught his eye. A man got out and leaned casually against the vehicle. Gustav saw that the sliding door was open.

“Excuse me,” said the man, as Gustav drew nearer. “I was wondering if you might be able to help me. You see, the sliding door on my minibus is stuck, and I was wondering if you might be willing to help me figure out what the problem was. I’ve looked and looked, and I just can’t figure it out! Perhaps a fresh set of eyes…” The man shrugged helplessly.

“Well..." Gustav began, checking his watch. He always arrived at school with time to spare, and, due to his good mood, was feeling unusually charitable that morning. "Yeah, okay," he said.

Gustav approached the minibus and bent over to get a good look at the sliding door’s track. There seemed to be nothing wrong with the door. He was just about to tell the man this when he felt a strong pair of arms shove him violently into the back of the minibus. Gustav let out a yell and lunged for the door, but the man had already slammed the door and locked it. He went to unlock it, but the locking mechanism had been removed on the inside; until the man let him out, he couldn’t go anywhere. The minibus’s tires squealed as the man hit the gas; Gustav flew backward, hitting his head violently against a coarse canvas sack full of many hard objects.

Gustav sat up, rubbing his head. He would probably have a bruise there soon. The minibus continued darting up and down roads, heading toward some unknown destination. There was a roughly constructed plywood barrier between the front seats and the back of the minibus. Gustav beat on it, attempting to catch the man’s attention, but either the man didn’t respond or Gustav couldn’t hear through the barrier. He also noticed that what had looked like curtains over the windows from the outside were actually more pieces of plywood, covered with fabric. Gustav couldn’t see anything outside of the minibus.

He didn’t know what the man wanted with him. His parents were not rich or famous; if the man was looking for a ransom, he would be disappointed. Gustav couldn’t think of any other reason kids were tossed into the back of vans driven by strange men, though.

Gustav tried to count the turns the minibus made – left, left, right, left – but soon lost track. He decided that he would wait until the minibus stopped, then attempt to escape. He dug through the contents of the back of the minibus, but found nothing that he could feasibly use as a weapon.

The coarse canvas sack he had hit his head on earlier proved to be full of books. Gustav selected a few at random and took a look. One had old-fashioned drawings of medieval torture devices; the other two were battered, worn copies of Mein Kampf and Lolita. A sick feeling of dread was beginning to wash over him. Gustav thrust the books quickly back within the bag; he didn’t want to know what other choice titles it contained.

What felt like hours later, the minibus finally stopped. The man got out of the minibus, and, after a moment, opened the sliding door part way. He grabbed Gustav roughly by the arm and dragged him out of the bus. Gustav could see that they were in the middle of the woods; the sun was high in the sky, bathing their surroundings with cold, bright light.

He twisted to look at the man holding him, trying to memorize any details he could of the man’s appearance. The man was considerably taller than Gustav (though that wasn’t saying much, as Gustav had always been shorter than average). He had dark brown hair, which was slightly in need of a trim. A small amount of stubble showed on the man’s chin. All in all, the man looked altogether unremarkable.

Suddenly, Gustav attempted to jerk his arm away from the man’s grip, but failed; the man was much stronger than he looked. His grip tightened, and Gustav could see a long purple scar running down the man’s right hand. He looked up at the man who had taken him prisoner, and was startled at the predatory look he saw in the man’s black eyes.

With his free hand, the man rummaged through a small backpack and took out a pair of handcuffs – the real kind that police use, not the play kind that can be released at the push of a button – and cuffed Gustav’s wrists together in front of him.

“Can’t have you running away, now can I?” the man asked with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Gustav didn’t dare to say anything. The man shifted his grip to Gustav’s elbow and began to drag him through the woods. “Hurry up,” he demanded. When Gustav didn’t go quickly enough for his tastes, the man drew back a hand and slapped him soundly across the face. “I said hurry up. When I tell you to do something, you do it. Got it?” Gustav remained silent. The man slapped him again, harder, and followed with a punch to the gut. Gustav fell to the ground, doubled over in pain. “And when I ask you a question, you answer it. Got it?”

“Got it,” whispered Gustav, holding his stomach.

“Get up,” the man ordered. Gustav did so immediately, ignoring the pain in both his face and his midsection. The man seized Gustav’s elbow again and began trekking through the woods. This time, Gustav broke into a trot to keep up with his captor.

After about fifteen minutes of this, the man suddenly halted. Digging within his backpack, he extracted a smaller bag, which he put over Gustav’s head, tightening it around the neck. Gustav stiffened and panicked momentarily, but relaxed slightly when he found that he could still breathe.

“We’re about to go to my cabin. You will treat it as home from now on, because you’re never going to leave it again. You got that?” Gustav nodded mutely - not agreeing, but knowing that protest would only earn more beatings. The man punched him again anyway. “Answer me when I talk to you,” he hissed.

“I will,” Gustav said reluctantly. The man paused, then took Gustav by the shoulders and spun him roughly. Because he was unable to see, Gustav lost his balance and fell messily to the ground. He was now thoroughly disoriented.

“Get up,” the man said, kicking Gustav in the ribs. Gustav groaned, but got up. “Good boy.” The man unexpectedly patted him on the head. Gustav resisted the urge to show his outrage; he was being treated like a dog.

The man grabbed Gustav by the elbow again, and the two continued their journey. Because the man had spun him, however, Gustav had no idea which direction they were going, or in which direction the minibus was. For all he knew, they were headed right back to the vehicle.

They continued walking for another few minutes, the man humming to himself. The man’s apparent cheer infuriated Gustav, who longed to rip the stifling bag off and beat the shit out of his captor. He swallowed his rage, vowing to escape as soon as humanly possible.

Finally, the man reached a hand out to stop Gustav; Gustav, not being able to see, ran directly into the man’s hand and fell over, twisting an arm uncomfortably underneath him. The man laughed and ordered him up again. He did so immediately, cradling his sore arm.

Gustav could hear a creaking nearby; it sounded like a door. His guess was confirmed when the man shoved him roughly, causing him to trip and stumble into the far wall of what felt like a roughly constructed wooden cabin. Gustav could hear movement somewhere near him, then the door slammed loudly.

The man seized Gustav’s wrists and removed the handcuffs momentarily. Before Gustav would react, however, the man had cuffed one hand to something immobile nearby. The man then removed the bag from Gustav’s head. The immobile thing was a pipe, and they were indeed in a wooden cabin.

The man took two pieces of bread out of his bag and tossed them at Gustav.

“Eat,” he commanded. Gustav did not eat. “I said, eat,” the man repeated. Gustav looked at the man.

“I’m not hungry,” he said quietly. The man immediately grabbed Gustav and pulled him so close that Gustav could smell the man’s breath.

“When I say eat,” he said, staring intently at his captive, “you will eat. As far as you’re concerned, I’m God.”

The man picked up one of the pieces of bread, tore it into small pieces, chewed on them briefly, then shoved them into Gustav’s mouth. Gustav nearly gagged, spitting out the soggy bread. The man brought a knee up into Gustav’s gut.

“You should have considered yourself lucky even to get food,” the man said as Gustav wheezed. “Perhaps going without will allow you to appreciate it.” The man released Gustav, then picked up the remaining piece of bread and tossed it into the stone fireplace at the other end of the cabin.

“Now,” he said, “I’ve got some things to tend to. I’ll be back to finish with you later.” He strode quickly to the heavy wooden door, and opened it. Just before he left, he turned back to Gustav. “By the way, you’d be better off not making any noise. Nobody will hear you anyway, and you wouldn’t want to wear your voice out. You know how I hate not having my questions answered. Understand?”

“Understood,” muttered Gustav bitterly. The man appeared satisfied, and left the cabin. Gustav could hear the metallic clink of keys and the sound of a padlock being shoved into place. Then all was silent.



Only two more weeks until we run out of the finished chapters and move on to new material! I sure hope we can keep motivation alive. Reviews help. ;)