Drake thumped the back of his head against the concrete wall in frustration. Even that small movement made him wince - those bastards had really tied his bonds tight this time. And to top it off, Drake knew he wouldn't be able to catch his kidnappers by surprise next time. They had already underestimated him, and they wouldn't make that mistake again.

The rope was cutting into his skin, rubbing it raw. He could feel a sluggish flow of blood that dribbled down on his hands and fingers. His ankels were no better either. Drake thumped his head against the wall again.

He wasn't sure what time it was - they (the bastards) had snatched him from his own bed in the middle of the night. And used something to knock him out for a while, he wasn't sure what. All he knew, was that when he woke up, he had been placed in a small, bare concrete room, unbound, but locked in. The lock was a padlock with an uneven latch; so he could open the door enough to get a hand through. It was his kidnappers' fault that they didn't realize he knew how to crack combination padlocks.

Suckers.

Unfortunetly, his sensitive touch didn't help him much when trying to make his way through an unfamiliar house without alerting anyone.

It was at times like these, that Drake hated being blind even more than usual.

He stiffened when his highly senstive ears picked up the sounds of people coming. Two in fact - the one with the bad breath, and the one with the limp. Sure enough, the padlock was unlocked, the door opened, and the two men came in. They were grunting, and swearing, and Drake could hear the meaty thuds of violent flesh on flesh.

"Just drop her!" Bad Breath grunted, and Drake heard the sound of something heavy (slap of bare flesh, a person then? jingle of metal, jewelry? a jacket?)

"Damn, little vixen!" Limp swore, there was a woosh of air, followed by another dull thud and then a gasping breath. Drake realized that Limp had kicked the girl on the floor.

"She better be worth the money we think she is," Bad Breath grumbled, leaving the room, Limp was following.

"She's good for it. I did my research."

"Just sayin'..." their voices turned muffled as the door slammed shut, and the padlock was reapplied. In just a few seconds, they were gone, returning to a room two or three over where Drake could only just barely make out voices. He swallowed, and turned his attention to his new cell mate.

"Hey? Are you okay?"

He heard her shifting, perhaps rolling over onto her back? But no answer.

"It's okay, my name's Drake. What's yours?"

Still no answer; but he could still hear her shifting about.

"Look, you're going to have to speak up," Drake said, a little annoyed. He knew that ever since he went blind, his patience had all but disappeared (not that a seven year old has much pactience to begin with), but he'd been working on it. Now at age eleven, he felt that he'd made decent progress. And then stuff like this happened. But who could blame him? He was kidnapped, locked up, and currently sharing a cell with a girl who refused to talk to him.

There was still no answer. But now, she seemed to be getting closer too him.

"Please say something? Anything? I can't see okay? I'm blind, so if you're nodding or something I can't tell."

She was closer, it sounded like she was using her feet to pull herself across the room. Which meant she was probably tied up too. Maybe she was gagged?

"Are you gagged or something?" he said unthinkinly, realizing that if she was gagged she certainly couldn't reply. But then again, even if she was gagged, she could make some kind of noise around it. But before he could finish processing that thought, he realized that she was still getting closer. Drake drew back, but the wall kept him from going anywhere far.

And then, he felt fingers touch his face. Drake jerked back, and only succeeded in slamming his head painfully against the concrete wall.

"Gah! What are you doing?!" he yelled. Her fingers were cool and dry, and small. And they dropped from his face to his bound hands in his lap. He could tell hers were tied too, as she picked his up, and held them to her face. He almost pulled away, but there was something in her touch, something he could almost feel like Braille. Feel and understand. So he didn't pull away, instead he let her take his hands and put them over her small mouth. She patted his hands against her mouth and then shook her head.

Drake frowned, confused. She did it again, patting his fingers against her mouth and then shaking her head.

"You...you can't talk, can you?" he asked, finally understanding. Why she hadn't screamed or cried as they brought her in, dropped her, kicked her. Why she hadn't replied to his questions.

Under his hands, he felt her nod her head enthuastically. He licked his lips, "You're mute?" Again, he felt her nodding.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you," he apologized. He felt ashamed, he was disabled just like she was and just like strangers did with him, they jumped to the wrong conclusions when he couldn't respond like normal people did. Thinking he was stupid, slow, rude, or a brat.

But she just shook her head, and he felt her shoulders raise and drop.

"They kidnapped you too?" he asked, her head nodded.

Drake immdiately changed the form of all his questions, trying to form them into yes or no questions.

"Is it day outside?" she shook her head.

"Is it still the 24th?" he asked, knowing he'd been taken the night of the 24th. She shook her head again.

"25th then?" she nodded. So he'd been missing for a full day now. Jeeze, his parents had to be freaked.

"Did you see their faces?" Drake asked, a real shiver of fear lancing through him. He couldn't have seen his kidnappers faces - so in a sense, he was safe because he would never be able to properly identify them. But she was different, she probably had seen them. And when he felt her nod, he feared for her. They had to escape. And maybe, now it was possible. They weren't going to underestimate him again, but they didn't seem to learn from their mistakes in general terms - because they had underestimated her.

"Can you undo my hands?" he could practically feel her attention shift from him down to his hands. She gently removed them from her face, and he felt her small cool fingers testing the narrow twine. He could tell that she avoided the spots where his blood had wetted the twine, and he belatedly realized that he'd probably gotten blood on her face. The twine tightened, biting firecly into his open wounds, making him wince. Her hand brushed against his chest. Her fingers were closed into a fist, and she passed it in a small circle on his chest. He didn't know what she was trying to tell him.

"What?" he asked, but she just did it again. "I'm sorry, I don't under-" he was cut off by her jerking his hands up to her face so that he could feel her nodding. He frowned, then spoke slowly, "I'm sorry?" she nodded again. Her hands left his at her face, and then she put the fist to his chest again, passing it in that small circle. "It means I'm sorry?" she nodded happily, he could feel her smile under his thumbs.

"Oh. Neat, you use sign language." another happy nod.

Drake thought back to his elemetary school, before he went blind, back in first grade, there was a guest speaker at his school who had been deaf. He had a special translator that translated his signs for him, and then signed back questions from the audience. Someone had asked him to teach them the alphebet.

He couldn't remember all of it, but he wanted to show her that....she wasn't alone. That...even though he couldn't fully understand what she said, he was willing to try.

So with slow, clumsey, bloodied fingers, he formed the first letter of the alphebet, followed by the second, and the third. He made it to N before he faultered, and couldn't recall the rest. But he could feel her excitment, she practically was vibrating with it. She suddenly took his hands in hers, then folded them around her right hand. She pushed her hand against his, a motion of encouragement. Confused, Drake closed his hands around her single one, and then realized that her hand was in the shape of the letter B from the sign language - hand open and flat, with the thumb folded across the palm. She was going to spell something! Eagerally, Drake touched her hand, making sure he was right. His mind had gotten good at processing what his hands told him - he could make pictures in his head from touch alone.

"B." he said triumphantly. Her fingers changed under his hands, and he could feel her grin without touch.

"E."

A new letter, "L."

Her hand closed, and then formed the same sign, "L?" he asked, not sure if she meant a doubled letter, or if he'd gotten it wrong. But then she drew his hands to her face and nodded happily again.

"B-E-L-L. Bell?" she nodded again, and then patted his hands against her face.

Drake turned the word over in his mind, trying to understand what she meant. Bell? There was a bell in the room? Why was that important? But no, she brought his hands to her, rather than pointing them in some direction. She was a bell? No! She was Bell!

"You're name is Bell!" he said, estatic. She nodded entuastically, her face must have been a blur.

Their small success seemed to fortify them both, because Bell attacted his bonds with renewed vigor. He could feel her picking incessently at the knot, he also heard when her fingernail cracked. He winced in sympathy.

Time passed slowly, and seeing how she didn't faulter, Drake could only assume she was making progress. And then, just like that, the twine loosened, and Bell let out a huge sigh of what could only be relief.

One down, three more to go.

~

They got lucky in the end, the knots around Drake's wrists had been the worst. Bell's were pretty loose, and the ones around his ankles proved to be easier, once Bell had pushed down his socks, loosening the binds enough for them to manipulate the knot easier.

Next came the lock, which Drake cracked in less time than before. Most people believed that it was hearing that safe and lock crackers relied on, when in fact it was touch. Sensitive touch was needed in order to feel the tumblers line up and fall into place. Not hearing. And senstive touch, Drake had.

Before he opened the door though, he turned to Bell, who's nervous hands (they were shaking a little) were on his shoulders letting him know where she was.

"I got caught last time I tried to escape. I can't see where exits are, you're going to have to lead, okay?" She tapped him on the shoulder once with her finger. A system they had worked out earlier, so his hands didn't have to be on her face while they were busy with the knots. One tap for yes, two for no, and three for I don't know.

"Alright, I know that the guys that brought us in here are in a room two or three in front of us. I can hear them. I haven't heard anyone else, but I got caught anyways, so there's other people about. I tried to find a window, but the one I did find was locked. It was out the door and to the right, down the wall about five feet. You ready?" another single tap. They switched places, and Drake put a hand on her shoulder. She squeezed his fingers. He heard her take a deep breath, and then eased the door open.

Bell was quiet, slow and cautious at first, tensing at every stray sound. But she lead them steadily through the first room, going around what Drake assumed was furniture. The next room, they were closer to the men, close enough that Drake could easily make out their words. They were talking about baseball stats.

Bastards.

Then Bell lead them to the left, away from the voices. There was a flush of water, and Drake felt his heart leap into his chest. Bathroom! Right! Doorknob turning! But Bell was quick on her feet, she leapt forward, pulling him with her around a corner. She pressed them both against the wall, and she stopped breathing. Drake did the same, not moving an inch.

They heard a man cough, and then shuffle back to the right. A few seconds later, Drake heard the other men greet him loudly, and Drake sighed in relief. Bell sighed too, assured by Drake's relief. Then she put his hand back on her shoulder, and moved forward again.

Through one more room, the floor changed under his bare feet - linolium. A kitchen most likely. Kitchen's usually meant back doors. Sure enough, Bell stopped and heard the soft snick of a dead bolt being turned back. Carefully and slowly, she turned the doorknob and eased the door open. Drake tasted the fresh, crisp night air eagerly. It was a heavenly break from the tiny, humid room. Or the stuffy, smelly house. Drake was glad it was April, because otherwise, traveling barefoot wouldn't have been advisable.

Bell lead them both outside. She took his hand, and lead them running as quietly as they could. She tugged his hand down, and he bent, running at half his height. Branches began to brush against him, and he heard the snap of thick foilage underfoot.

Drake almost tripped when he heard Bad Breath yell out the alarm. Bell heard it too, because her pace picked up rapidly. Drake strained his ears, they were far enough away that words were lost, but he could tell they knew that he and Bell were gone. It would be seconds before they were outside, following them.

"Bell, we've got to hide," he hissed at her, but she didn't stop running, instead, she just tugged urgently on his hand.

"They'll hear us and find us," he hissed again, but Bell just squeezed his hand.

He almost protested again, but in the end, came to the conclusion that he had to trust her. It had gotten him this far.

He hadn't finished that thought fully, when Bell stopped abruptly. So abruptly, that he smashed right into her back, sending them both sprawling forward. They landed hard, on...pavement! Despite the scraps they both got, Drake could have shouted for joy. Pavement was good. Pavement meant public. Public meant people. People meant rescue.

The shouts of their persuers were still to close for comfort however.

Bell picked a direction and flat out ran, Drake right next to her. They clung to the other's hand for dear life as they both put their legs to fierce use. Bell steered so to speak, leading him around a sharp curve in the road. Drake was glad for it, the curve was sharp enough that they would be out of sight from their persuers. But Bell still didn't stop. She laced their fingers together and pulled harder, surging ahead.

He heard it too.

Sirens.

"Police?" Drake panted. His hand was squeezed once, before she hoisted it into the air and waved it back and forth frantically. Drake helped by raising his other hand, and waved down a salvation he couldn't see.