Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters I have borrowed from MI High. Some quite scary bits in this chapter.
Frank took hold of the table and knocked down a few remaining loose bricks.
"Yeah. Bring it on," said Carrie, sounding grim.
"Let's go," said Frank. "Keep an eye open for any booby-traps. We have no idea how this place has been left." Carrie and Rose nodded grimly as they stepped through into the dark room beyond the collapsed wall.
Switching on their torches they found the room was empty. The went through a door at the end into another dark corridor. There were numerous doors off the corridor, all of which lead to further empty rooms.
"How big is this place ?" wondered Carrie. "It goes on forever."
At the end of the corridor they came to a junction and a set of stairs leading upwards. "Where now ?" asked Rose. "Let's check the blueprints and see where these stairs and corridors go." The three of them studied the prints. Again, this was a slow process because the screen was so small and the plans of the building were substantial. "There's a whole other building under this one," said Rose, amazed. "The complex seems to extend upwards into the Hall too."
"The Professor used a door on the second floor," said Frank. "Its possible we are looking for an area up inside the house. There's no sign of life down here."
"Maybe we should split up," suggested Carrie.
"No, I want us all to stick together," said Frank. "The professor clearly knows this place better than we do. I don't want to risk losing anyone else. Upstairs ?" They agreed and set off upwards.
At the top of the stairs was another door, but they could see faint light shining around its frame. Frank nodded at the others and signalled a countdown, three, two, one, then slammed open the door.
Oscar's eyes flickered open. He was staring at a wall in a dimly lit room. His head was so painful, he couldn't bear to move it. He tried to lift his hand, but couldn't. Slowly he moved his head to see why. He was sitting in some kind of dentist's chair. Leather straps held his wrists tightly. He couldn't move his legs so assumed they were also strapped. A pair of hands appeared to attach wires to his chest inside his shirt. The nightmare of the situation hit him, and his heart beat loudly in his ears.
"Be calm and you will not suffer too much," instructed a clipped voice. Slowly he turned his head and saw Professor Kalkfarben altering switches and settings on a strange set of electronics by his side. A monitor was displaying his pounding heartbeat.
"What are you doing ? What are you doing to me ?" whispered Oscar.
"You will see shortly," answered the Professor. "You need not worry, you have been here before. Unfortunately, this would be much less uncomfortable with the benefit of drugs, but I do not have a supply here, so we will have to continue without them. My work is too important to give up now. I must complete my mission before we are interrupted."
"So, what I require you to do, is listen to the voices you will hear. They will be speaking in Russian and you are to translate them into English. The microphone will record what you say," explained the Professor in a matter-of-fact voice.
"No !" hissed Oscar. "Do your own translating. I'm not doing anything for you."
"Sadly it is not possible for me to carry out this work," said the Professor regretfully. "The procedure has long term side effects so I am limited to using various subjects for short periods of time."
"I am not a subject !" whispered Oscar hoarsely. "Let me go !" He pulled at the wrist restraints. "What is this thing ?"
"Ah, my own invention. It allows me to project a listening position into any distant location remotely," he explained proudly. "I developed it for the military but they refused to take it further after just one unfortunate incident," he said in an insulted tone of voice.
"What incident ?" asked Oscar, half wishing not to know.
"One of the test subjects spent too long using the device and sadly was brain-damaged," explained the Professor, again in a completely matter-of-fact tone of voice.
Oscar was horrified. "Let me go !" he whispered desperately.
"Later," said the Professor. "Now we shall begin. I'm afraid this will be a little uncomfortable." He lifted what looked like a thin metal motorcycle helmet off a table. A mass of wires attached to the top of the helmet, leading back behind Oscar's head. He seemed to be attaching the helmet to the chair above Oscar's head. The chair tilted backwards and the Professor's hand gripped Oscar's chin and forced his head back. Oscar felt the helmet lowering over his head, until it covered his eyes and locked his head in position. There was a click and the helmet tightened hard against his head, seeming to mould itself to the shape of his skull. He groaned in discomfort and fear. He made another whimper of pain when dozens of sharp needle points seemed to prick into his head.
He couldn't move his head, couldn't see or hear anything and was terrified. He felt something tightening across his shoulders, then his thighs, fixing him firmly against the chair. He was now completely immobile.
Lost and frightened in the dark, Oscar suddenly heard the Professor's voice in his ear. "Good. You will shortly hear some voices and you are to begin translating."
"No," said Oscar. His whisper sounded strange and deep, rattling around his skull.
"The process does result in some pain to the head," the Professor explained in his odd tinny electronic voice. "If you refuse to translate, I shall increase the amplification which sadly does increase the degree of pain. Do you understand ?" he asked.
"Yes," whispered Oscar. There was nothing he could do except comply.
"Excellent," said the voice. Everything went silent again. Then abruptly a piercing pain shot through his head and he could hear voices in conversation. Oscar gasped in pain and struggled pointlessly against the restraints.
"Translate !" boomed the Professor's voice over the others. The voices became louder and the pain became excruciating. Oscar struggled to concentrate and started speaking. The voices became quieter and the pain lessened.
Oscar was lost in a world of pain and Russian to English translation. It became harder and harder to concentrate through the pain. He could feel himself becoming hotter and hotter. He was dimly aware that sweat was trickling down his throat. His voice faltered as hallucinations began to intrude on what he was hearing. His mother was standing in front of him laughing.
"Stupid boy ! Did you think you were going to have any kind of life without me ? Did you ?" she was saying.
Then Frank appeared saying, "It's just not good enough Oscar. You have to try harder or I shall have you thrown out of MI High."
"No please," whispered Oscar. "I haven't got anywhere to go," he pleaded.
"Concentrate ! Not much longer," instructed a strange voice. Who was that ? Oscar was adrift in his own personal nightmare.