There were counters along the walls and a chair in the corner with three people standing around it. They watched as he walked in. LED lanterns rested along the countertops, illuminating the room. One of the men in the corner turned on a long industrial flashlight and shined it on the chair, revealing it to be, in fact, a stand-alone dentist chair mounted to the floor.
“We found all these battery-operated lights in the basement,” Brant said.
Narrowing his eyes as he stepped forward, James could see both Brant and Julian, welcoming him with sinister amusement, and his body went icy with fear. There was another man dressed in a white robe who James didn't recognize. He stopped a few feet from the chair, next to Devin, who kept his weapon clearly in view.
“Welcome,” Julian said, stepping forward. “I hope we didn't keep you waiting too long.”
James rubbed his eyes and looked around the room, trying to remain calm. “What is it?”
Julian slapped the headrest of the dental chair with excitement. “It's time for your checkup!” He paused, noticing James's apprehension. “Don't worry. We've got a professional.”
The man in the white coat turned around and pulled down his surgical mask, revealing a stubble-ridden face with piercing eyes and tattoos traveling up from his neck.
“Dr. Miller knows his way around a dentist office,” Julian continued, placing his hand on the man's shoulder. “Remind me. What'd you do that got you in here?”
“I murdered one of my patients,” Miller said, adding: “Don’t worry. It wasn’t incompetence or an accident.”
Both Julian and Brant laughed. James observed a nearby tray placed by the chair. There were random dentist tools lying out in full display, not one of them appealing. And here he was, facing god only knew what, and he found himself worried if the tools were sterilized.
“What the hell is this about?” he asked.
Julian crossed his arms with a smirk on his sunken face. He had changed from his dress clothes into a blue smock. Brant as well. James didn't know what kind of game they were playing or if they were just messing with him, but he backed away from the chair nonetheless. He then felt the barrel of Devin's gun jab him in the side.
“Not so fast,” Devin said.
James spun around, angered, and then glared at Julian who standing by the chair, tapping his hand on the seat, an invitation to sit down. “If this is intended to scare me, it's not necessary.”
Julian slowly approached him. “You’ll have to trust us, James. The book will happen. You have a gift for survival, an inclination to kill or be killed. We could use a person like you.”
“I just want to write the book,” James said defensively.
Julian stopped within inches of him and grabbed his arm. “Not yet. We have to be sure where your loyalties lie.”
“Listen, Monroe,” James began with newfound defiance. “This isn't part of the deal.”
Julian released his arm and stared him down, backing away. “Sit down.”
James remained in place, staring back.
Devin jabbed him again. “Get moving.”
Prepared to fight, James received a quick knock in the back of the head from Devin's buttstock. It was his second one in the past two days. The blow dropped him to his knees, hands on his head and wincing in pain. He felt dizzy and disoriented as two blurry figures lifted him under his arms to the chair and sat him down. James shifted around as they leaned him back, but the straps came around him fast, securing him to the chair. They held the flashlight over his face, blinding him. His arms were held at his sides. His legs were quickly strapped together around his knees and ankles. Within moments, he couldn't even move. “You sons of bitches. Let me go!”
A strap came across his forehead, holding his head back. The flashlight shined brightly into his face, only to be quickly taken away. James saw Julian, Brant, and Miller, all of them playing dentist and dentist assistants. They looked down with equal amusement. James tried to pull against the straps. He twisted and thrashed, but nothing worked.
They had bound him tightly to the chair. Terrifying questions raged in his mind: What they were going to do with him? He closed his mouth the moment he saw Dr. Miller lift a long, thin pick and a pair of extracting forceps from the tray. Miller plunged one of his latex-gloved finger between James's lips, feeling his gum line.
Julian held both sides of James’s head, just below his ears, and leaned closer as Miller backed away. “We just want to do a checkup.”
“I'll bite your damn fingers off!” James shouted.
“Perhaps we could break your jaw open instead,” Julian said.
James held his mouth closed, not budging. For the moment, he could only see Julian standing over him, and he didn't know where the others had gone. He pleaded with them to reconsider, but Julian would do no such thing.
“You see, James. I've spent a lot of time researching effective methods of submission. Hell, I've had more than enough years in here to do so. As an outsider, you will be an interesting experiment.”
James felt crippling panic start to take hold. He felt short of breath and constricted to the chair. He was in serious trouble, and he knew it. If by chance he was experiencing an elaborate charade, he hoped that there would be a way out of it. But as he pulled against the straps pinning him to the chair, he was beginning to realize there was nothing phony about any of it.
“Let's talk about this, okay?”
Dr. Miller slowly came into view, holding his needle-like pick and clamps. “Open your mouth for me, please.”
James clinched his jaw shut, closing his eyes as a light shined onto his face.
He could sense them all standing over him again. His chair was leaned back, and there was still no way to break free. A sharp punch landed on his gut, hard and fast, causing him to gasp for air, eyes open and squinting, as they shoved a projectile into his mouth to keep it open.
He opened his watering eyes and tried to clamp down as hard as he could, but the resistance was far too great. They had propped his mouth open with something big and metal and immovable, and there wasn’t anything he could do. He screamed and tried to wiggle his straps loose, but all attempts failed.
“Start the examination,” Julian said.
James tried to turn his head away as Miller stood over him with the dental pick inches from his teeth. “Stop this! Please...” he cried, tears of panic streaming down his face.
Julian studied him a minute and then sighed as he leaned against the chair. “You see, the human mind is resilient in all its wants, desires, and yearnings, all shaped over time. And while we can condition man toward submission, his mind is never truly ours. That's where you come in.”
James took a deep breath, bracing himself for the ensuing torment as Julian continued.
“You're going to pronounce your allegiance to the New Sanctuary of the First Order, your allegiance to myself, and your devotion to your brothers,” Julian calmly said. James understood exactly what was happening, and that he had a choice to make: Submit, lie, and save his life, or eventually be killed. If he lived, he’d have to find a way to forgive himself. Julian backed away and waited as James tried his best to repeat his words.
“I pronounce allegiance to the New Sanctuary of the First Order, its leader, Julian Monroe, and to all my brothers...”
“Of?” Julian asked.
“The First Order,” James said.
Julian applauded him, and for a moment, James thought that the ordeal might have been over. But he couldn't have been more wrong. “That's wonderful,” Julian continued, turning toward the dentist. “Dr. Miller, you may proceed.”
Before James could so much as moan in pain, Miller leaned close with his instruments in hand, jabbing the gums around the teeth in some of the most sensitive spaces. He gripped James's tongue, pressing down as he continued to pick, jab, and scrape around his teeth and gums. The excruciating pain was unlike anything James had experienced.
Saliva and blood poured from the side
of his mouth as he turned his head, trying to find any way to move from Miller's steady hands. For a moment, everything stopped. James’s screams soon died out, followed by delirious groans. The dentist had moved away. They were giving James a break. More saliva flowed from the sides of his mouth as he tried to avoid gagging. The painful ordeal had seemed to last hours, but it likely had lasted no more than a minute or two. He knew they were all watching him, mocking and laughing at him as well.
Julian leaned in closer and spoke admirably. “You're doing well. Now let's hear it again.”
James looked up at him with exhausted, watering eyes and tried his best to remember. With his mouth pried open, every word sounded weird, nearly unintelligible, in addition to his gums being cut and mutilated. “I pledge allegiance to the First Order... its leader... and all my brothers.”
“One more time,” Julian said.
James took a deep breath and repeated himself, mouth full of blood and saliva.
“You're doing fine,” Julian assured him. He then looked at the dentist and beckoned him forward. “Back to work. I think I see some cavities in there.”
James’s eyes widened in terror. “No, Julian. Listen to me.”
But it was too late. Dr. Miller had some fresh tools and sharpened probes and knives, which James couldn't even look at. He felt them press between and behind and in front of his teeth, scraping into the corners of his mouth, up and behind his two front teeth and then the bottom. No matter how hard he tried to close his mouth, he couldn't get it shut. It made no difference how much saliva continued to pour down his chin, Miller wouldn't stop.
The pain was horrific, but it wasn't enough to let him lose consciousness. Miller was careful to scrape and probe just enough to inflict pain. James thought it would never end. His muffled screams were ignored. There seemed to be no end in sight. New pain James never thought imaginable was piled on to even greater pain. He squirmed and screamed, unable to resist. And then, after a few moments of non-stop torture, it ended.
“That's enough,” Julian said, stepping forward.
“Damn!” Brant called up. “That boy's all cut up.”
James could barely see a thing through his increasingly blurred vision. He tasted blood as he tilted his head to the side and spit.
“Ah, I didn't even get to pull a tooth!” Miller protested.
“I think he's had enough for today,” Julian said. “Haven't you, James?”
James could only moan in response. The immense pain and torture had taken the fight out of him.
“Let's hear the words one more time,” Julian said into his ear.
James tried to speak but couldn't.
“Don't give Dr. Miller a reason to start pulling,” Julian continued.
“Allegiance to First Order... to you... to brothers,” James said, fading off. They all grew silent as they watched James quietly moan in exhaustion like some dying animal on display.
“Okay, take him back to his cell,” Julian said. As they began unstrapping James, Julian leaned down and whispered into his ear, “That was just the pregame. The real fun starts tomorrow.”
Dr. Miller took a hand towel and wiped James's mouth. He reached inside and grabbed the extender prop. James closed his jaws. His entire mouth was in aching, throbbing, and immeasurable pain. They picked him up and brought him to his feet. James wobbled, leaning against the chair as bloody drool streamed onto his chin and shirt. They pushed him along, outside the door and into the darkened hall. He heard Julian call out to him that he needed to rinse his mouth out to stave off infection.
“We'll get you some saline water,” he shouted, entering the hall.
Julian then watched as Devin and Brant led him back to his cell while he and the dentist relaxed in the hallway, smoking cigars. James held the towel to his mouth, bleeding profusely as everything began to make sense.
They had woken him later that evening to keep him rattled and confused. Now he knew that his captors meant business. It was a brutal warning signal if ever he’d gotten one. They led him down the hall and into the next cell block. He glanced into some of them and caught a glimpse of a jailed guard standing in the darkness behind bars, watching him.
The guard nodded at James, making eye contact, and then opened his mouth wide, displaying a row of missing teeth. The message was clear. James had to get out of there. He reached the stairs, climbing the steps as he gripped the banister. Upon reaching the aisle above, he continued toward his cell without any assistance from Brant and Devin, who were still following him.
He reached the last cell in the corner and stopped, waiting for them to open it. The cell bars rolled open with a hefty push from Brant. James turned and entered, head down and not saying a word. He pulled the towel from his mouth for a moment and saw that it was drenched with red. Those sons of bitches...
They pulled the cell door shut as Brant called out to him. James slowly turned around and glared at them both with contempt.
“The sooner you learn how things are done around here, the better,” he said.
James slowly turned away and sat on the edge of the bottom bunk, dabbing at his mouth.
“Ain't no man can take more than a couple of minutes of that shit,” Devin added.
Brant pulled a bottled water from his coat and passed it through the bars, dropping it. The bottle rolled to James's feet, where he leaned down and picked it up.
“That should be enough agua for the night,” Brant said.
James said nothing as he stared ahead at the wall of his cell. His mind was consumed with getting out of there, but he didn't know the first thing about how. The First Order wanted undying loyalty like any cult did. James hadn't put it past them to use torture, but he had underestimated just how far they would go. He thought he could talk to Julian Monroe and exploit the man's ego. But he had walked into a nightmarish trap.
“It'll heal,” Brant said, watching from behind the bars. Oddly enough, he hadn't yet walked away. He seemed to have something on his mind. “You seem like a smart guy,” he continued. “A little careless, but you should wise up and play along. It'll make things a lot easier, I promise.”
James moved quickly to the sink, ignoring him, and spit blood. He turned around, surprised again to see Brant still there.
“You might think things will go back to normal, but that's where you're wrong. It's too late. The EMP attacks, the blackout, the loss of technology; those were just the nails in the coffin. Survival of the fittest now, my friend. And Julian is all about that.”
Brant walked away, leaving James in his cell, towel against his mouth in a lingering state of shock at what had happened. The brutality that had befallen the new world seemed to have no bounds. He then took the bottle of water and stumbled to the sink with a growing dizziness. In the darkness, he proceeded to open the bottle and swig from it as the sting of his wounds reminded him of just what future horrors awaited.
Five Days Later
The regimental days that followed existed for the sole purpose of breaking James's spirit. With the threat of another dental appointment looming, James remained cooperative. Sleep and food deprivation were part of their methods. He was taken out of his cell a few times each day and beaten by five or six inmates for their own amusement. He was repeatedly made to repeat his allegiance and profess his loyalty to the First Order. And with every fight or violent brawl, his escape plan was fading further and further away. Some nights he dreamed that Larry would spring him from his cell, as they had done for their wives. But that became less likely with each passing day.
By the fifth night, he was given shower privileges, which consisted of an outside tub filled with water from the retention pond behind the prison. Upon returning to his cell, he found Julian inside, waiting for him. He hadn't seen or spoken to Julian since that first day at the prison. James entered his cell, limping, and hardly looking like himself anymore, with bruises on his face, chest, and sides as Julian watched him with great satisfaction.
“I hear y
ou've been something of a team player the past few days. Is that correct?”
James stared at the floor without saying anything.
Julian crossed his arms and leaned against the wall with a sigh. “You appear to be learning much more quickly than I thought.”
James spoke just above a whisper as he sat on the edge of his bed. “What do you want?”
Julian leaned down, trying to hear him. “What do I want?” He suddenly rocked back with laughter. “If only it was that easy. You see, James. In a perfect world, you'd learn all about the First Order, willingly. You'd come to our side just as everyone has and join our mission. But we can no longer afford that luxury. Submissive conditioning is our best bet.”
James continued to stare down with little to say. He wanted to kill Julian but lacked the energy to do so. He could barely stand on his own. Perhaps that was part of Julian's new torture, to instill James with so much hatred and not be able to do a thing about it.
“It's going to take time to get you where you need to be,” Julian continued. “By the end, you will be one hundred percent subservient.”
“Who do you think you are?” James said with contempt.
Julian's eyes widened as he snapped his fingers. “Ah! You see. We still have a lot of work to do. Your defiance is showing. Have you been trying to con us?”
“It was just a question,” James said.
Julian then crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath. “Since I was sentenced to life here, I've learned a lot. There were hard times, just like you're going through now, but I never gave up. They threw me in prison because they were threatened by what I represent. The First Order is going to change the world, not overnight, of course. My father used to tell me that when I was young. A lot of what he preached was bullshit, but he had his good points.”
Hideaway (Book 2): An Emp Thriller Page 13