Chapter 7: Screwed.
Tied down to this bed of shame
You tried to move around the pain
But oh, your soul is anchored
---Sarah McLachlan "Ice"
Time flies when you're having fun. That's the old cliché, isn't it? It's not entirely false. While I was not having fun, I suppose I couldn't have been all that bored either, because a month had already passed.
I was lifting weights (don't laugh, it's not that funny) in the exercise pen. Thought I'd try to build some muscle. But it was probably pointless. My body was too light and frail to support more than the skin and muscle I already had.
I heard somebody take weights off the rack behind me. I turned around to see Nack smiling at me toothily. Sleuth was behind him. Nack's weight was a little heavier than mine, but Sleuth was holding two fifty pound dumbbells with ease.
"Hey, we've been talking around, ya know, and everyone thinks if a skinny dweeb like you can make a bust, then we all can."
"I wouldn't recommend it," I said.
"I mean all of us. Tagetha."
"Yeah. The guards are wimps. I could bust their asses just by myself," said Sleuth, lifting the weights high above his head.
Nack set his weights down and picked up a basketball. He bounced it in time to his words. "We're gonna try tonight."
A tiny flare of excitement leapt in me, but it was overshadowed by...fear? I did not want to go back to solitary.
"You're insane. I don't want any part of this."
"Why not?" He must've saw something in my eyes. "Yer scared, aren't ya?"
I couldn't go back to solitary. Yes, it was nice to be away from Drago and Flying Frog at first. But I was starting to like them. Or at least their voices. Although they were irritating, they kept me from going crazy.
The basketball was still bouncing, Nack was still talking. "We don't need you anyway."
That night, I stood in the dinner line. My legs were shaking, and I had my hands clasped together so they wouldn't tremble. Damn damn damn! Were those fools going to try anything or not?
I couldn't look nervous.
I looked over at the guards. They were milling around, not really watching us. But still, I couldn't look nervous.
Who the hell am I kidding? It doesn't matter, because I'm the Overlander. The blame falls on me, no matter who started it or what happened.
Maybe it'd been better if I had been born a Mobian. I wouldn't be in this mess. Hell, I'd just be in a different one. I'd be a victim of Robotnik either way.
Maybe it would've just been better if I'd stayed on Earth. Even though the people abused it until it broke. Earth wasn't even around anymore. It was just bits of dust floating through space.
I was broke out of my thoughts when Nack slammed his tail against the food counter. It made a resounding thump, and before anyone could react, the old cliché happened; all hell broke loose.
Sleuth, Nack and Ernie leapt over the counter, catching the cooks off guard.
The guards drew their guns, but couldn't shoot. The cooks were now being used as shields.
Guard Tattle moved close to Nack. "Let go of him."
"Back off," the weasel sneered.
"Let him go or I'll shoot you!"
"Ya'll hafta shoot through yer friend."
Guard Tattle could've shot Nack. Nack was taller than the cook. His whole head was clear to shoot. But unless Tattle's gun was pressed right up against Nack's skull, the cook would be blown away too. Tattle's gun was a powerful piece.
Tattle didn't see Nack's tail. It slammed into his legs and he stumbled. Nack was all over him, scooping the gun off the floor. The other guards moved to take a shot, but it was too late. Nack had straightened up and had the cook in his grasp again.
"Now all of you can back off." The weasel pressed the gun to the cook's head. The cook's mouth gaped open.
The guards moved back a little.
"Now, put down yer guns."
The guards looked hesitant. I couldn't blame them. Who'd want to be defenseless in the face of a bunch of criminals?
"Put 'em down!" Nack shoved the gun harder against the cook's head, bending the man's head onto his shoulder. The cook whimpered.
One guard put his gun down, and without being asked, he kicked it towards the convicts. Sleuth picked it up and threatened the other cook.
A few more guns were dropped and kicked towards us. Some of the prisoners picked them up. I inched away from them. No way was I gonna get caught in any crossfire.
Sleuth laughed. "Don't play hero, just put down yer damn guns. Unless you want---ahhhhh!" He was cut off when one of the guards fired.
Nack dove to the floor and fired shots. I heard a guard shriek in pain.
Shots filled the air. The glass of the food counter shattered. The unarmed prisoners tried to use their trays as shields. I saw a blast shatter Flying Frog's tray. He was lucky; the blast missed him.
I dropped to the floor. I saw a guard writhing around, blood flooding the floor around him. Oh great. This was just spiffy.
Another guard aimed and took a shot. I followed his gaze and saw the ugly blue hawk scream and fall to the floor, his leg bloody.
Nack aimed at a group of guards, who were standing foolishly close together. The weasel's hand tightened on the trigger.
The guards scattered before the shot was taken; Nack was knocked backwards by the gun's power. The wall dented inwards where the blast had struck.
I crawled amidst broken glass and shattered bits of tray, taking refuge under one of the tables.
I admit, I was scared. One side was going to win, and it didn't look pretty either way. I hugged the metal table leg, watched the action, and hoped I wasn't going to end up dead.
Tattle came up behind Sleuth, his beloved taser in hand. The big dog howled and dropped to the floor. I saw his eyes rolling around and he didn't fight when Tattle kicked his gun away. It spun across the floor. Tattle moved to grab it, but was attacked by Ernie.
The gun twirled across the floor, the light catching its silvery trim. It came to a stop right in front of me.
I reached for it.
A foot stepped down on my hand.
"I don't think so, prick."
I looked up at some nameless guard's face. His gun came into view, pointing down at me.
"NO!"
He smiled, finger tightening on the trigger.
"CLEAR OUT!" Marshe's voice broke through the clamor. "CLEAR OUT NOW!"
Some of the guards made it out the doors. The prisoners rushed after them, but the doors slammed in their face.
"DAMN! We're locked in!"
Nack aimed his gun at the door. "I'll take care of that."
I heard a hissing noise. At first I thought it was coming from somebody, but then realized it was coming from above. I scooted out from under the table and looked up.
A faint green smoke was coming from a pipe in the ceiling. No, not smoke.
"IT'S GAS!" I shrieked.
"WHAT?" Nack whirled around to look at me. I pointed up at the ceiling. The air was getting thick.
"Damn, I'll take care of it."
"NO! Don't shoot that!"
"Shut up, Snively." Nack fired.
A hole was blown through the ceiling and I saw a canister within the ceiling. A pipe brought the gas from the canister to this room. But now the canister was broken open, and instead of just a little gas coming in...it was all of it.
"Damn," said Nack. "This sucks. I thought this plan was gonna work."
"What kind of gas is it?" asked Sleuth, his voice sounding slightly panicked.
Nack's eyes fluttered and he yawned. "Shit, man, I think it's slee..." He collapsed on the floor.
Shit indeed...I managed to think, before I fell into a sudden darkness.
Ohh...
Ohhh...what happened?
Ow, that light is so damn bright. Where am I?
I tried to move.
But I couldn't.
I opened my eyes, then shut them. There was bright light all around, and it hurt. It was hot light too; I could feel the heat on my forehead.
There was something on my head. It felt like a crown or something. I tried to raise my hands to feel it, but they were strapped down.
I opened my eyes slowly, letting my eyelids slid up fraction by fraction until I could stand the light.
I saw Nack and Sleuth. They were strapped down in interrogation chairs, bright lights aimed on their faces. I blinked. They had something on their heads. A metal headband of some sort.
Oh great.
It was an electroshock headband.
I knew very well what those were. I'd used them back in Robotropolis. It was a nice clean torture method. Just send thousands of bolts through your victim's body. It often makes them talk very readily. And there's usually little mess to clean up. There was just drool, sometimes the occasional puddle of vomit, or even more rare, eyeballs that had just popped out. -POP!-
I giggled slightly. Why the hell am I laughing...this isn't funny...I've got one of those on my head, and I know what they can do...
The giggling turned to a sort of panicked noise and I struggled hard against my bonds. But they were strong. I tried to move my feet, but they were restrained also.
I struggled harder, feeling the wrist bonds scrapping up my arms; felt blood start oozing as my flesh was scratched. They wouldn't give; I fell back in the chair, panting.
There was a glass window in this room. Out through it was a hallway of the prison. Marshe and Tattle were out there, blabbing about something. Tattle glanced my way, and I saw his pointed muzzle curve in a grin.
He nudged Marshe, and they came in the room.
"So glad you're awake," said Tattle. I noticed there was a video camera in the room, which Marshe was turning on.
Tattle turned his back on us to smile at the camera lens. It twirled around, focusing on his face. "This is what'll happen to you saps if you try that shit again," he sneered.
He faced us again. "We got the prisoners watching you guys down in the café'. Since you three were the ringleaders, you're gonna be the example of what NOT to do in the Devil's Gulag."
"I didn't have anything to do with it!" I exclaimed.
"Sure!" Tattle laughed. "You say that now. I bet you bragged before though, didn't you? We know you, Overlander, you're the one who starts trouble."
"Yeah, nobody else's been in solitary. Nobody else escaped their cell two times in a week." Marshe grinned.
"In fact, you were probably the leader, weren't you? You probably planned it all!"
"I didn't!" I protested. "I swear, I didn't have anything to do with it! It wasn't my idea, and I didn't want any part of it!"
He slapped me across the face. "Shut up."
He turned to Sleuth. "You know what that is on your head?"
The dog shook his head. Nack looked worried.
"It's an electroshock headband. You guys thought you were sooo bad."
The camera was treated to another one of Tattle's sadistic grins. "If you don't want this to happen to you, then you'd better stay in line."
He drew a remote from his pocket. There was a dial on it, and a button. The dial was to turn up the voltage. The button was pressed down to shock.
Tattle's finger stroked the remote, and he smiled at us. Then he jabbed the button.
I heard Nack and Sleuth screaming. They screamed so loud, so powerfully...you think they'd start spitting up bits of their lungs, you think their voiceboxes would shatter. There was a third voice shrieking along with them; it was high and agonized and strangely familiar...oh God it's mine.
My wrists hurt terribly, and I heard bone creak. I couldn't stop moving. My body was jerking against the bonds uncontrollably; I was hurting myself...
My nerves felt scorched, lightning was ripping through my nerves, my blood. My heart pulsed and pounded, it's going to explode...
Something was warm on my mouth, dripping down my chin. Blood, hmmm. My tongue hurt and I felt my teeth grinding down into it.
Stop stoppppp stopppp...please...my eyes are sizzling...my hands stretched like claws, straining so hard, the bones are going to pop through...
Stop...God please...I can't breathe...I can't... My lungs struggled to bring in air.
Then it stopped. So suddenly. My whole body went limp and I gasped for breath frantically.
Tremors hit my body and I whimpered. The shaking hurt. I felt burnt from the inside.
"All done," said Tattle. He handed the remote to Marshe.
"Just kidding!" laughed the beaver guard. His voice was high with glee.
"NOOOOO!" somebody shrieked. It sounded like me.
The pain was worse...so much worse. What could hurt this bad...? My eyes were filled with white flashes. I could only think of stars; their blinding white light, their intense heat, their brilliance; it felt like stars had swooped down to attack me. This was worse than fire, worse than lightning...
My throat was raw and I couldn't hear the screaming anymore. Something warm flooded my seat, and I smelled a sharp odor. It hurt...God I hurt all over...I have to die, I have to faint...I have to get out of this...
It stopped. Marshe was laughing.
"How'd it feel?"
Tattle's image blurred before me; I stared straight at him without seeing him, and felt my body shaking violently.
We were brought back to our cells, I guess. I can't remember for sure. I remember crawling into my bed, and curling up like a fetus.
"Are you ok?" Drago asked. His voice kept repeating, but I couldn't answer...what the hell was I supposed to say? I couldn't talk...my throat felt destroyed. I felt coolness in my eyes. Tears...maybe.
I grasped my blanket almost frantically, pulling it to me and hugging it tight against me. I need to get out of here...it hurts too bad...
The world faded out.
Life is but a dream...
"Life is but a dream, life is but a dream!" I remember that kid, how incoherently he screamed that phrase. At first, he just hummed it. I remember, I asked him about Knothole. That was the BIG question, the one Julian always asked, and always made me and Packbell ask when we interrogated.
The kid didn't know anything. But Julian would be angry if the boy wasn't tortured. So, I got out the ole electroshock headband. It was my favorite torture device. I wasn't like Packbell. He liked messy torture. He liked drawing blood, and breaking bones. With women, he was the worst; he hurt and humiliated them in the worst ways. Even I had my boundaries.
Electroshock wasn't particularly pretty to look at, but at least it wasn't too messy.
I asked him one more time. He shook his head, still humming the stupid rowboat song, which was irritating, to say the least. So I shocked the little monster.
"LIFE IS BUT A DREAM!!!" he howled and that phrase started echoing, louder and louder.
"GODDAMN!" I put my hands over my ears.
The dream tilted and spun. God, I hate dreams.
The echoes quieted down. I took my hands away from my ears, relieved. But the relief didn't last long.
The kid was loose. I don't know how...but this is a damn dream, isn't it?
He grabbed me with a strength that he shouldn't possess, and threw me down in the chair. I pulled against the restraints, but they were tight.
"Row, row, row yer boat," he crooned, his tiny hand reaching towards a table of instruments. They were the ones Packbell used. Scalpels, knives, whips...
He whirled around, a scalpel shining in his hand. His eyes were equally shiny, filled with malicious intent. I squirmed around, trying desperately to pull my hands out through the restraints. It just hurt my wrists.
"No...no please...OWWWWW!" I jerked against the bonds, feeling the cold metal slash my leg. The kid chuckled, and slashed at me again. I felt blood dripping down my arm.
"STOP!"
He smiled, and drew back the scalpel. I tried to escape again, but in vain. He thrust his hand forward hard, burying the little blade in my stomach. A choked cry came from my mouth, and tears sprang into my eyes. The kid sneered and went back to the instrument table, just leaving the scalpel.
I felt incredibly sick, and leaned my head back, taking in gulps of the stale air. I could taste metal in my mouth, like the scalpel was shoved down my throat instead of being jammed into my belly.
He came back, holding a miniature taser.
Shit. I felt sicker. This wasn't going to be pleasant.
The kid smiled at me again, and yanked the scalpel from my body.
"What are y-you going to d-d-dooo?"
He shoved the business end of the taser into my wound. He had to wiggle it around to get it in. I didn't even try to hold it back; I screamed.
He giggled and wiggled it in deeper. "Merrily, merrily merrily," he babbled.
"Stop...stoppp please..." I was pleading shamelessly, but the pain was so bad I thought I'd puke. The lower half of my shirt and my legs were soaked with blood.
"Gently down the stream," was his only reply. I saw his little finger move towards the button on the taser.
"NO! NO PLEASE! YOU CAN'T DO THIS!!!"
He just smiled, all innocent and sweet. Then he pressed the button.
Screaming is not the word for it. I did not scream. I poured my pain out through my voice. The kid's ears flattened down, but he didn't stop smiling. Or zapping me.
The pain wasn't just in my belly. It was all through me. Traveling through my nerves, my blood. I felt cooked alive. I felt like a lobster must feel after being thrown into the boiling cook pot.
The pain spread out, flaring over me. I felt on fire, I felt my skin growing hot and bubbling. My eyes felt swelled, like they would explode and I started to wheeze, unable to breathe. The air came in, but somehow my lungs wouldn't hold it. My heart panicked, and skipped beats. Blackness fluttered around, holding a promise of silence, of painlessness. I reached out for it...
And awoke.
I sat up abruptly, and immediately doubled over in pain, whimpering like a child. I felt dizzy and fell forward onto the bed, my left cheek pressed into the hard mattress. My left eye was scrunched up and watery with tears. Through my right, I could see Drago looking over at me. I thought I saw concern on his face, but couldn't be sure.
"Ya ok?" he asked. His voice sounded neutral enough, so maybe the worried look was my imagination.
"It hurts," I groaned.
"Ya got fried."
My mouth felt dry. I went for my water glass. Bad idea. The pain was like an electrical wire shoved into my heart. I hated whining but I couldn't help it. I fell onto the bed again, crying and screaming.
"Be quiet, man," I heard Flying Frog say.
I shut my mouth, but couldn't stop whimpering. The pain faded away as I lay still. But if even one muscle twitched, the pain struck me.
I've got to get out of here...
Tied down to this bed of shame
You tried to move around the pain
But oh, your soul is anchored
---Sarah McLachlan "Ice"
Time flies when you're having fun. That's the old cliché, isn't it? It's not entirely false. While I was not having fun, I suppose I couldn't have been all that bored either, because a month had already passed.
I was lifting weights (don't laugh, it's not that funny) in the exercise pen. Thought I'd try to build some muscle. But it was probably pointless. My body was too light and frail to support more than the skin and muscle I already had.
I heard somebody take weights off the rack behind me. I turned around to see Nack smiling at me toothily. Sleuth was behind him. Nack's weight was a little heavier than mine, but Sleuth was holding two fifty pound dumbbells with ease.
"Hey, we've been talking around, ya know, and everyone thinks if a skinny dweeb like you can make a bust, then we all can."
"I wouldn't recommend it," I said.
"I mean all of us. Tagetha."
"Yeah. The guards are wimps. I could bust their asses just by myself," said Sleuth, lifting the weights high above his head.
Nack set his weights down and picked up a basketball. He bounced it in time to his words. "We're gonna try tonight."
A tiny flare of excitement leapt in me, but it was overshadowed by...fear? I did not want to go back to solitary.
"You're insane. I don't want any part of this."
"Why not?" He must've saw something in my eyes. "Yer scared, aren't ya?"
I couldn't go back to solitary. Yes, it was nice to be away from Drago and Flying Frog at first. But I was starting to like them. Or at least their voices. Although they were irritating, they kept me from going crazy.
The basketball was still bouncing, Nack was still talking. "We don't need you anyway."
That night, I stood in the dinner line. My legs were shaking, and I had my hands clasped together so they wouldn't tremble. Damn damn damn! Were those fools going to try anything or not?
I couldn't look nervous.
I looked over at the guards. They were milling around, not really watching us. But still, I couldn't look nervous.
Who the hell am I kidding? It doesn't matter, because I'm the Overlander. The blame falls on me, no matter who started it or what happened.
Maybe it'd been better if I had been born a Mobian. I wouldn't be in this mess. Hell, I'd just be in a different one. I'd be a victim of Robotnik either way.
Maybe it would've just been better if I'd stayed on Earth. Even though the people abused it until it broke. Earth wasn't even around anymore. It was just bits of dust floating through space.
I was broke out of my thoughts when Nack slammed his tail against the food counter. It made a resounding thump, and before anyone could react, the old cliché happened; all hell broke loose.
Sleuth, Nack and Ernie leapt over the counter, catching the cooks off guard.
The guards drew their guns, but couldn't shoot. The cooks were now being used as shields.
Guard Tattle moved close to Nack. "Let go of him."
"Back off," the weasel sneered.
"Let him go or I'll shoot you!"
"Ya'll hafta shoot through yer friend."
Guard Tattle could've shot Nack. Nack was taller than the cook. His whole head was clear to shoot. But unless Tattle's gun was pressed right up against Nack's skull, the cook would be blown away too. Tattle's gun was a powerful piece.
Tattle didn't see Nack's tail. It slammed into his legs and he stumbled. Nack was all over him, scooping the gun off the floor. The other guards moved to take a shot, but it was too late. Nack had straightened up and had the cook in his grasp again.
"Now all of you can back off." The weasel pressed the gun to the cook's head. The cook's mouth gaped open.
The guards moved back a little.
"Now, put down yer guns."
The guards looked hesitant. I couldn't blame them. Who'd want to be defenseless in the face of a bunch of criminals?
"Put 'em down!" Nack shoved the gun harder against the cook's head, bending the man's head onto his shoulder. The cook whimpered.
One guard put his gun down, and without being asked, he kicked it towards the convicts. Sleuth picked it up and threatened the other cook.
A few more guns were dropped and kicked towards us. Some of the prisoners picked them up. I inched away from them. No way was I gonna get caught in any crossfire.
Sleuth laughed. "Don't play hero, just put down yer damn guns. Unless you want---ahhhhh!" He was cut off when one of the guards fired.
Nack dove to the floor and fired shots. I heard a guard shriek in pain.
Shots filled the air. The glass of the food counter shattered. The unarmed prisoners tried to use their trays as shields. I saw a blast shatter Flying Frog's tray. He was lucky; the blast missed him.
I dropped to the floor. I saw a guard writhing around, blood flooding the floor around him. Oh great. This was just spiffy.
Another guard aimed and took a shot. I followed his gaze and saw the ugly blue hawk scream and fall to the floor, his leg bloody.
Nack aimed at a group of guards, who were standing foolishly close together. The weasel's hand tightened on the trigger.
The guards scattered before the shot was taken; Nack was knocked backwards by the gun's power. The wall dented inwards where the blast had struck.
I crawled amidst broken glass and shattered bits of tray, taking refuge under one of the tables.
I admit, I was scared. One side was going to win, and it didn't look pretty either way. I hugged the metal table leg, watched the action, and hoped I wasn't going to end up dead.
Tattle came up behind Sleuth, his beloved taser in hand. The big dog howled and dropped to the floor. I saw his eyes rolling around and he didn't fight when Tattle kicked his gun away. It spun across the floor. Tattle moved to grab it, but was attacked by Ernie.
The gun twirled across the floor, the light catching its silvery trim. It came to a stop right in front of me.
I reached for it.
A foot stepped down on my hand.
"I don't think so, prick."
I looked up at some nameless guard's face. His gun came into view, pointing down at me.
"NO!"
He smiled, finger tightening on the trigger.
"CLEAR OUT!" Marshe's voice broke through the clamor. "CLEAR OUT NOW!"
Some of the guards made it out the doors. The prisoners rushed after them, but the doors slammed in their face.
"DAMN! We're locked in!"
Nack aimed his gun at the door. "I'll take care of that."
I heard a hissing noise. At first I thought it was coming from somebody, but then realized it was coming from above. I scooted out from under the table and looked up.
A faint green smoke was coming from a pipe in the ceiling. No, not smoke.
"IT'S GAS!" I shrieked.
"WHAT?" Nack whirled around to look at me. I pointed up at the ceiling. The air was getting thick.
"Damn, I'll take care of it."
"NO! Don't shoot that!"
"Shut up, Snively." Nack fired.
A hole was blown through the ceiling and I saw a canister within the ceiling. A pipe brought the gas from the canister to this room. But now the canister was broken open, and instead of just a little gas coming in...it was all of it.
"Damn," said Nack. "This sucks. I thought this plan was gonna work."
"What kind of gas is it?" asked Sleuth, his voice sounding slightly panicked.
Nack's eyes fluttered and he yawned. "Shit, man, I think it's slee..." He collapsed on the floor.
Shit indeed...I managed to think, before I fell into a sudden darkness.
Ohh...
Ohhh...what happened?
Ow, that light is so damn bright. Where am I?
I tried to move.
But I couldn't.
I opened my eyes, then shut them. There was bright light all around, and it hurt. It was hot light too; I could feel the heat on my forehead.
There was something on my head. It felt like a crown or something. I tried to raise my hands to feel it, but they were strapped down.
I opened my eyes slowly, letting my eyelids slid up fraction by fraction until I could stand the light.
I saw Nack and Sleuth. They were strapped down in interrogation chairs, bright lights aimed on their faces. I blinked. They had something on their heads. A metal headband of some sort.
Oh great.
It was an electroshock headband.
I knew very well what those were. I'd used them back in Robotropolis. It was a nice clean torture method. Just send thousands of bolts through your victim's body. It often makes them talk very readily. And there's usually little mess to clean up. There was just drool, sometimes the occasional puddle of vomit, or even more rare, eyeballs that had just popped out. -POP!-
I giggled slightly. Why the hell am I laughing...this isn't funny...I've got one of those on my head, and I know what they can do...
The giggling turned to a sort of panicked noise and I struggled hard against my bonds. But they were strong. I tried to move my feet, but they were restrained also.
I struggled harder, feeling the wrist bonds scrapping up my arms; felt blood start oozing as my flesh was scratched. They wouldn't give; I fell back in the chair, panting.
There was a glass window in this room. Out through it was a hallway of the prison. Marshe and Tattle were out there, blabbing about something. Tattle glanced my way, and I saw his pointed muzzle curve in a grin.
He nudged Marshe, and they came in the room.
"So glad you're awake," said Tattle. I noticed there was a video camera in the room, which Marshe was turning on.
Tattle turned his back on us to smile at the camera lens. It twirled around, focusing on his face. "This is what'll happen to you saps if you try that shit again," he sneered.
He faced us again. "We got the prisoners watching you guys down in the café'. Since you three were the ringleaders, you're gonna be the example of what NOT to do in the Devil's Gulag."
"I didn't have anything to do with it!" I exclaimed.
"Sure!" Tattle laughed. "You say that now. I bet you bragged before though, didn't you? We know you, Overlander, you're the one who starts trouble."
"Yeah, nobody else's been in solitary. Nobody else escaped their cell two times in a week." Marshe grinned.
"In fact, you were probably the leader, weren't you? You probably planned it all!"
"I didn't!" I protested. "I swear, I didn't have anything to do with it! It wasn't my idea, and I didn't want any part of it!"
He slapped me across the face. "Shut up."
He turned to Sleuth. "You know what that is on your head?"
The dog shook his head. Nack looked worried.
"It's an electroshock headband. You guys thought you were sooo bad."
The camera was treated to another one of Tattle's sadistic grins. "If you don't want this to happen to you, then you'd better stay in line."
He drew a remote from his pocket. There was a dial on it, and a button. The dial was to turn up the voltage. The button was pressed down to shock.
Tattle's finger stroked the remote, and he smiled at us. Then he jabbed the button.
I heard Nack and Sleuth screaming. They screamed so loud, so powerfully...you think they'd start spitting up bits of their lungs, you think their voiceboxes would shatter. There was a third voice shrieking along with them; it was high and agonized and strangely familiar...oh God it's mine.
My wrists hurt terribly, and I heard bone creak. I couldn't stop moving. My body was jerking against the bonds uncontrollably; I was hurting myself...
My nerves felt scorched, lightning was ripping through my nerves, my blood. My heart pulsed and pounded, it's going to explode...
Something was warm on my mouth, dripping down my chin. Blood, hmmm. My tongue hurt and I felt my teeth grinding down into it.
Stop stoppppp stopppp...please...my eyes are sizzling...my hands stretched like claws, straining so hard, the bones are going to pop through...
Stop...God please...I can't breathe...I can't... My lungs struggled to bring in air.
Then it stopped. So suddenly. My whole body went limp and I gasped for breath frantically.
Tremors hit my body and I whimpered. The shaking hurt. I felt burnt from the inside.
"All done," said Tattle. He handed the remote to Marshe.
"Just kidding!" laughed the beaver guard. His voice was high with glee.
"NOOOOO!" somebody shrieked. It sounded like me.
The pain was worse...so much worse. What could hurt this bad...? My eyes were filled with white flashes. I could only think of stars; their blinding white light, their intense heat, their brilliance; it felt like stars had swooped down to attack me. This was worse than fire, worse than lightning...
My throat was raw and I couldn't hear the screaming anymore. Something warm flooded my seat, and I smelled a sharp odor. It hurt...God I hurt all over...I have to die, I have to faint...I have to get out of this...
It stopped. Marshe was laughing.
"How'd it feel?"
Tattle's image blurred before me; I stared straight at him without seeing him, and felt my body shaking violently.
We were brought back to our cells, I guess. I can't remember for sure. I remember crawling into my bed, and curling up like a fetus.
"Are you ok?" Drago asked. His voice kept repeating, but I couldn't answer...what the hell was I supposed to say? I couldn't talk...my throat felt destroyed. I felt coolness in my eyes. Tears...maybe.
I grasped my blanket almost frantically, pulling it to me and hugging it tight against me. I need to get out of here...it hurts too bad...
The world faded out.
Life is but a dream...
"Life is but a dream, life is but a dream!" I remember that kid, how incoherently he screamed that phrase. At first, he just hummed it. I remember, I asked him about Knothole. That was the BIG question, the one Julian always asked, and always made me and Packbell ask when we interrogated.
The kid didn't know anything. But Julian would be angry if the boy wasn't tortured. So, I got out the ole electroshock headband. It was my favorite torture device. I wasn't like Packbell. He liked messy torture. He liked drawing blood, and breaking bones. With women, he was the worst; he hurt and humiliated them in the worst ways. Even I had my boundaries.
Electroshock wasn't particularly pretty to look at, but at least it wasn't too messy.
I asked him one more time. He shook his head, still humming the stupid rowboat song, which was irritating, to say the least. So I shocked the little monster.
"LIFE IS BUT A DREAM!!!" he howled and that phrase started echoing, louder and louder.
"GODDAMN!" I put my hands over my ears.
The dream tilted and spun. God, I hate dreams.
The echoes quieted down. I took my hands away from my ears, relieved. But the relief didn't last long.
The kid was loose. I don't know how...but this is a damn dream, isn't it?
He grabbed me with a strength that he shouldn't possess, and threw me down in the chair. I pulled against the restraints, but they were tight.
"Row, row, row yer boat," he crooned, his tiny hand reaching towards a table of instruments. They were the ones Packbell used. Scalpels, knives, whips...
He whirled around, a scalpel shining in his hand. His eyes were equally shiny, filled with malicious intent. I squirmed around, trying desperately to pull my hands out through the restraints. It just hurt my wrists.
"No...no please...OWWWWW!" I jerked against the bonds, feeling the cold metal slash my leg. The kid chuckled, and slashed at me again. I felt blood dripping down my arm.
"STOP!"
He smiled, and drew back the scalpel. I tried to escape again, but in vain. He thrust his hand forward hard, burying the little blade in my stomach. A choked cry came from my mouth, and tears sprang into my eyes. The kid sneered and went back to the instrument table, just leaving the scalpel.
I felt incredibly sick, and leaned my head back, taking in gulps of the stale air. I could taste metal in my mouth, like the scalpel was shoved down my throat instead of being jammed into my belly.
He came back, holding a miniature taser.
Shit. I felt sicker. This wasn't going to be pleasant.
The kid smiled at me again, and yanked the scalpel from my body.
"What are y-you going to d-d-dooo?"
He shoved the business end of the taser into my wound. He had to wiggle it around to get it in. I didn't even try to hold it back; I screamed.
He giggled and wiggled it in deeper. "Merrily, merrily merrily," he babbled.
"Stop...stoppp please..." I was pleading shamelessly, but the pain was so bad I thought I'd puke. The lower half of my shirt and my legs were soaked with blood.
"Gently down the stream," was his only reply. I saw his little finger move towards the button on the taser.
"NO! NO PLEASE! YOU CAN'T DO THIS!!!"
He just smiled, all innocent and sweet. Then he pressed the button.
Screaming is not the word for it. I did not scream. I poured my pain out through my voice. The kid's ears flattened down, but he didn't stop smiling. Or zapping me.
The pain wasn't just in my belly. It was all through me. Traveling through my nerves, my blood. I felt cooked alive. I felt like a lobster must feel after being thrown into the boiling cook pot.
The pain spread out, flaring over me. I felt on fire, I felt my skin growing hot and bubbling. My eyes felt swelled, like they would explode and I started to wheeze, unable to breathe. The air came in, but somehow my lungs wouldn't hold it. My heart panicked, and skipped beats. Blackness fluttered around, holding a promise of silence, of painlessness. I reached out for it...
And awoke.
I sat up abruptly, and immediately doubled over in pain, whimpering like a child. I felt dizzy and fell forward onto the bed, my left cheek pressed into the hard mattress. My left eye was scrunched up and watery with tears. Through my right, I could see Drago looking over at me. I thought I saw concern on his face, but couldn't be sure.
"Ya ok?" he asked. His voice sounded neutral enough, so maybe the worried look was my imagination.
"It hurts," I groaned.
"Ya got fried."
My mouth felt dry. I went for my water glass. Bad idea. The pain was like an electrical wire shoved into my heart. I hated whining but I couldn't help it. I fell onto the bed again, crying and screaming.
"Be quiet, man," I heard Flying Frog say.
I shut my mouth, but couldn't stop whimpering. The pain faded away as I lay still. But if even one muscle twitched, the pain struck me.
I've got to get out of here...