Adrenaline pumped through his veins, his heart beating loudly in his throat. His fingers fumbled with the thin lock pick as he tried to unlock the door quickly. Deep in concentration, John nearly missed the footsteps that were coming towards him. Nervous, he glanced behind him in time to see a huge man's profile before his head was slammed forward into the door. Reeling from the force of the blow, his head swimming and vision blurring, John stumbled backwards. He tried to turn, to fight, but his body didn't comprehend what his mind was telling it.

Suddenly, he stopped moving as he felt cold steel touch the back of his neck. A shiver ran through him. He could hear his mum, Derek and Cameron moving about in another part of the café but it felt as though it was just him and his captor.

"You will walk in front of me. Utter even the smallest of sounds and I will shoot you in the kneecap," the voice was a man's – one that he recognised. It was Sarkissian.

John swallowed and nodded silently. He knew how life-altering a shattered knee could be. Besides it wouldn't be long before his mum came looking for him; she never left him alone for very long. So he followed Sarkissian's instructions, walking silently in front of him as the man sporadically gave him directions.

They walked in silence, Sarkissian gripping John's jacket in a tight fist. Finally they reached a door, a green exit sign glowing above it. John swallowed, adrenaline levels skyrocketing. Where was his mum?

"Open the door," Sarkissian demanded.

Slowly, trying to give his family more time to reach him, he reached out his hand and took his time turning the knob. Suddenly, he felt the barrel of the gun in the back of his neck again and sweat broke out on his forehead. John pushed the door open and Sarkissian shoved him none-too-gently outside. He stumbled, thoughts of escape running through his mind. If he could just get the gun away from Sarkissian then he might stand a chance. Maybe he should just risk calling out?

"John?" the voice was faint but he would recognise it anywhere.

Sarah had finally noticed his absence and you'd have to be deaf not to hear the anxious note in her tone.

John opened his mouth to shout back but suddenly the butt of the gun came down on his temple and he crumpled into a heap on the ground. The pain was blinding, splitting his head in two. Somehow he stayed conscious, unable to speak or even groan but awake nonetheless.

Rough hands grabbed him under the arms and pulled him up. John was half-dragged, half-carried over to a nondescript car. Sarkissian pulled open the back door and pushed him inside. He hit his head on the roof of the car and fell gracelessly onto the back seat. A man was already there, waiting for him. He looked familiar although John couldn't place the face through the blur that was all his eyes could see.

The blurry man pulled him upright and Sarkissian slid in next to him. The car moved off before Sarkissian had the chance to close the door. But seconds before the door sealed closed, John heard his mum, shouting out his name. Her voice was filled with emotion, her pain and fear evident in her hysterical tone.

A gunshot sounded and there was a thud as it buried into the back panel of the car. John began to turn around but Sarkissian pushed the gun into his side and John froze.

"You don't move or make a sound without our permission, is that understood?" Sarkissian stated.

John glanced down at the gun, a simple black Glock 22, and nodded silently.

The car ride was quiet but John preferred it that way. He managed to clear his head although he still had a splitting headache that kept making itself known whenever they drove over a bump. His thoughts were focused on his mum and how frantic she would be. He could guess that she was yelling furiously at Derek and Cameron, demanding that they help her find him and yet simultaneously blaming them for his kidnapping.

This bought him to his next train of thought. John frowned as he mulled it over. What did Sarkissian want with him anyway? As far as he could tell, the man knew nothing about his destiny and he had the Turk already, so he didn't want him for money value. But what did he want?

Nearly an hour later, the car began to slow and then stopped. John looked out of the window, shifting slightly as Sarkissian dug the gun into his side. The only thing John could see though was sand. It was everywhere.

John nearly groaned, but stopped himself before the sound escaped his lips. The desert. Great, it would take forever for Sarah, Derek and Cameron to find him.

"Out!" Sarkissian suddenly demanded.

John turned and noticed that the other man, a Latino judging by his looks, had gotten out and was waiting for John to follow. Slowly, he climbed across the seat and stepped into the night. Immediately, he was pushed to the ground, a foot pressing heavily into the small of his back. Hands grabbed his arms and pulled them fiercely behind his back. Cold steel tightened around his wrists, cutting off his circulation. Then he was hauled to his feet.

The Latin man held onto John's cuffed hands as Sarkissian walked around the vehicle and motioned to the driver. John watched with growing apprehension as the car shifted into reversed and suddenly disappeared into the darkness of night. Now, left alone in the desert, his hands bound behind his back and his mother nowhere near, John felt panic and fear flood him. He didn't know what was happening and he didn't know why and this scared him more than his mum when she was angry.

Sarkissian took one step away from John before bending and dusting away a small amount of sand. As John watched, a silver latch appeared. Sarkissian pulled on it and sand began to shift as a steel covering was revealed. The Latin man pushed John forward and the boy got a glimpse of a dimly lit staircase made entirely of wood.

"In."

John glanced at Sarkissian, his eyes round. He hesitated for a second but it was long enough for Sarkissian to draw his gun and point it threateningly at his knee. Taking a deep breath, John looked back at the staircase and then stepped towards it. He wished that Cameron was here – she would be able to help him escape, probably without so much as getting a scratch.

But, he realised as his foot landed on the first step on the stairs, Cameron wasn't here. Nor was his mother or uncle and for once in his life he was truly alone. And it scared him.