One in the same (The flash/ Carl grimes)

Chapter 7: Finders keepers

CARLS POV
I stood on the side of the street, watching all the colorful cars go by. If I still remember how people do this, then I should be out of here soon. "Uh..Taxi!" I screamed at the yellow cars going by. When I walked out of the hospital, I swiped the pockets of coats hanging on a coat rack. I found a couple wallets with some cash, and I then put the wallets back in the pockets they came from, so the people could at least keep their ids.
Finally, I saw a taxi swerve to a stop. I stepped forward as the window rolled down. A guy who looked no older then 20, was starring at me. "Well hello there." he greeted. "Hi." I said back. "The name's Brad. Where do you need to go?" He asked. "Well I looked around and couldn't find a bus stop... So can you bring me to the nearest one?" I asked not knowing my destination. Where else am I supposed to go?
"How old are you? And the the truth not some made up crap to get a ride." he wanted to know. "15..." I replied. He nodded his and unlocked the doors and pointed to the back. I opened the door and sat inside. As he pulled away, I watched the the reflection of the hospital in the rear view mirror. This was for the best, I have to remember that.
"So what's a 15 year old doing out by himself? Brad asked. "Just figured it's for the best." was the best answer I could come up with.
"Well where are your parents? Aren't they looking for you?" He asked. He sure seemed to ask slot of questions.
"Unless they come back from the grave, then that's a negative." I chuckled as the words came out. The reality that my parents are actually gone, hit hard.
"I never caught your name." he said looking at me through the mirror. "Uh It's... Spencer." I lied. I can't tell a complete stranger everything. "Do you have any siblings?" He asked. "A sister. How about you?" I asked. "I got a little sister, about 13 years young... Just lost my brother, about 15." he replied. I told him I was sorry for his loss, and fiddled with my thumbs. Soon enough I'll be on a bus to some place far away anyways- or so I thought. I was starring at the window, when I saw a bus stop, but the taxi drove right past it. "Hey I think you missed a turn." I pointed out. But he didn't seem to listen, because he hit a button on the door, and I heard the doors click. I reached for the door handle and pulled, but it wouldn't open. "Hey let me out!" I yelled. I hit the window with my hand in a fist. "I'm afraid I can't do that." He said pulling a loaded gun out and pointing it at me. "Stay calm, and I won't shoot you."
I slowly took my hands away from the door.
Why do I always seem to find myself in these situations? It's the worlds cruel way of telling me I should have just stayed in the house with my family a while back.
"Please just let me out, and I'll forget this ever even happened." I begged. He just ignored me and we went off the Main Street out of the city, onto a dirt road. We past giant fields that seemed to be empty, besides a few farm animals and crops. A giant red barn was plopped I front of a field, one that you'd see in the movies. Across from the barn was a white house, that had paint chipping off, and a long front porch.
I saw a truck in the driveway, which suggested people were home. I'll be free soon, I mean once they realize their son is crazy! Right?
Brad stepped out of the car and ran over to my side door, and used a key to open it. He grabbed me by the arm, and yanked me out of the car still pointing the gun at me. He then, dropped the arm he pulled me out of the car with, and grabbed my other arm so he would have a better advantage. Only little did he know, that when he grabbed my arm, he grabbed my elbow for better grip, the one where earlier I was stabbed in. He gripped it so tightly that I found my self squirming around, and falling to my knees. "Stop struggling!" Brad yelled at me. "I can't!" I squealed. The front door of the White House bursted open, and a guy in his early 40's came out. "What the hells going on!" He yelled. "Father, I found one!" Brad exclaimed. His father trotted over to us, and said, "Hold him up straight." Brad came behind me, and made stand on my feet and held me straight up. The guy looked at me up and down, the took his hand grabbed my chin and moved my head from side to side to look at my face. "Holy crap Brad. This ones better then the last! He looks almost identical to Brandon!" he began And dropped his hand from my face. "What's his name?" He asked. "He told me his name is Spencer." Brad answered. Then Brad dropped me down so I was on my knees, the tried to pick me up again with my arm, but I could hardly stand because my arm was in pain. "What the hells wrong with him?" Brads dad asked. "I ain't got a clue." Brad answered. "Well Spencer, you can call me Stew for now." What kind of name is Stew? I didn't say anything, I just started at him. "Does he ever speak? Tell me your age!" Stew snapped. "15." I barley managed to say. "Let him down." Stew demanded. After that, Brad let my hand go and I fell to the ground. I laid on my back holding my elbow I'm hand. Brad still was pointing his gun at me, and stew Bent down, because he saw me holding my arm. He grabbed my arm and rolled up my sleeve. The bandage that had wrapped my arm, were soaked in blood. "Why'd you do that Brad?" He asked. "I swear! It was not me!" Brad pleaded. "What kind of trouble were you into?" Stew whispered. "Get him into the house, into the dinning room, and I'll get my tools ." I heard Stew say, and next thing I knew I was being lifted up by Brad, and carried into the house. I was brought into a room near the kitchen, and was being placed on a large, empty table. A while later, Stew came in with a little metal box. I lied on the table, and Stew sat next to me. He whispered something into Brads ear, and Brad agreed to whatever he said. He went over to the kitchen, and opened a wooden drawer, and pulled out a steak knife. He came over to me and placed it over my throat. "You more, you die. Now listen and do exactly what we say." He mumbled. I looked over at Stew to see he had opened the metal box and placed the stuff on the table. He then took my arm and laid it flat out. I went to pick my arm up, but Brad put the knife closer. Stew unwrapped my elbow slowly, and the looked at it. "A stab wound." Stew whispered. He then took a wipe out of a container, and wiped the blood away. I tensed up a little because it stung, but it was only the beginning. Turns out my stitches were ripped open. As I saw him thread a needle, I had to look the opposite direction because i knew it would hurt. As he stitched it up, I saw something. I squinted my eyes to the best hallway, and saw a head peering from the side of the hallway, a young girl to be exact. She saw that noticed her, and quickly ran away. It must be the little sister Brad was talking about.
BARRYS POV
"I just talked to security. He's not in the hospital anymore." I said walking up to Oliver. "Well their loading the security footage I front of he hospital so we can look at the direction he went in at least." Oliver said. Where did he go? Why did he leave? Why would he leave?