by Bob Crosley
Shortly after he was dressed, the guard came for him. Same guard as last night, Officer Attitude, wearing sunglasses. Jacob realized that ‘last night’ might be the wrong term. It could have been yesterday morning, or even a few hours ago. Having no sense of how many hours or days had passed was starting to play hell with his head. As soon as he stepped out of the cell, he knew the reason for the lights. They started flashing, bright lights flashing at random intervals. They were so powerful that it seemed as though the light was coming from everywhere at once. Closing his eyes made no difference. The lights continued flashing along his route down the hall. They could only serve one purpose — to make sure Jacob couldn’t tell when his BICE was activated. He wouldn’t be able to tell reality from fiction.
When Jacob and Officer Attitude reached interrogation, Lieutenant Gutierrez was waiting outside the door. “Hello, Jacob. I see you got some clean clothes. Yours were getting a little foul, if you don’t mind me saying so.” Jacob didn’t respond. “I also see you’ve removed your bandages. I don’t blame you. The bandages are standard procedure. I don’t agree with it. I personally like the idea of the world seeing what happens when prisoners don’t cooperate. But I don’t make the rules.” He continued speaking as if they were having a conversation. “And honestly, based on your lack of cooperation, I don’t think you’re done with bruises and scrapes.”
He took custody of Jacob from Officer Attitude and started leading him down a different hall, away from Interrogation. “We’re doing something a little different today. And we won’t need these. He looked off into the distance for a second, and the flashes of light stopped. As they walked down the hall, Jacob started to hear a slight hum. It grew steadily louder as they walked. He decided it wasn’t a humming sound, but rather a feeling, inside his body. A deep vibration that rattled his bones. As they rounded a corner, Jacob saw a large, vault-like door guarded by two Transport agents in full battle gear. As they walked past the door, the hum started to subside.
After passing through a guard post and into an area marked ‘Transport Only,’ they finally reached a door marked ‘Training Room.’ Gutierrez got that faraway look in his eyes for a moment before the door opened, triggered by the lieutenant’s BICE commands. The room looked like a small gymnasium, with a wood floor covered in workout pads. Short, wide windows lined the wall up at ceiling level, but they were blacked out, denying Jacob even an hint of whether it was day or night. In the middle of the room, three agents were sparring, with padding on their bodies, heads, and hands.
The lieutenant turned to Jacob. “Jacob, where can we find Marcus Weatherly?” At the mention of the name, the agents stopped sparring and turned their attention toward the two. The lieutenant glanced at them, and mimed taking gloves off before turning back to Jacob. “Where is Marcus, Jacob? Do this for yourself. You don’t owe Marcus anything.”
Jacob noticed the guards removing their padded gloves from their taped hands. The three agents formed a semi-circle facing the captor and his captive.
“Jacob, you brought this on yourself.” And with that, Gutierrez stepped away and gestured toward the three waiting agents. Jacob knew he didn’t have a chance against three trained men, but hoped to get a few shots in before the beating got too bad. He never stood a chance. As he raised his fists, facing his potential attackers, his interrogator came up behind him and kicked him behind the knees. He went down hard in the middle of the semi-circle.
The blows started, followed by kicks. Jacob could take comfort in knowing he couldn’t give Marcus up, even if he wanted to. But that small comfort was short-lived as the fists and boots kept striking him. Two well-placed kicks to the ribs were punctuated by loud cracks and every bit of air leaving Jacob’s lungs. He gasped to get oxygen, and could hear a slight hitch or rattle in his breathing. Each breath was agony. The guards paused as one brought his leg back for a kick. The other two nodded and Jacob saw the foot start toward his head, then blackness.
Chapter Twelve
Jacob woke to headache, a sick feeling in his stomach, and painfully bright lights. He could hear the sound of beeping machines over the ringing in his ears. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw doctors, nurses, hospital beds, and machines hooked to patients. Looking down at his body, he saw his chest was completely wrapped in heavy bandages. What skin he could see was covered in purple bruises. And he could see his wrists, handcuffed to his bed.
“You’re awake. Welcome back. It was touch and go for a little while there. They worked you over pretty well. I’m Doctor Nichols.”
“I’m Jacob.” Or at least that’s what Jacob tried to say. What came out instead was a scratchy rasp, with a trace of a wheeze.
“Don’t try to talk just yet. I’ll have the nurse bring you some sips of water. You’re in the secure infirmary, if you haven’t figured that out. You were brought here with three cracked ribs, a dislocated shoulder, a partially collapsed lung, and a concussion. A few more hits, and you likely would be dead. Apparently, you still know something they want, because they brought you to me, and told me to patch you up and get you back to Lieutenant Gutierrez. You’ve pissed off the wrong guy, Jacob.”
“I don’t know…” Jacob rasped, before being interrupted.
“Jacob, don’t mistake my bedside manner for sympathy. I don’t like having to treat terrorists, but sometimes I don’t have a choice.”
Jacob was surprised by the rebuke, based on how the doctor acted just a few minutes ago. “How long?”
“Can’t tell you. You could have been here a day, or a month. You won’t get the answers you seek from me. I’m going to get the nurse to bring you some water and something to help you sleep. You don’t have much longer before I release you back into the lieutenant’s custody.”
***
Jacob woke, once again in his cell. The strobe lights were already flashing, and he could smell the orange zest scent. He knew there would be no way to know if they were in his head or not.
The guard of the day was young Donavan Yoder again. They made their way down the hall, silently this time. Donavan wore sunglasses to keep the strobes from bothering him. Jacob breathed a sigh of relief when he was taken to interrogation rather than the training room. When Donavan opened the door, Jacob was shocked to see someone else already chained to the table. Dr. Antonov.
Jacob was glad to see the doctor, even in this condition, but his feelings changed as he saw the anger on the doctor’s face. Donavan chained Jacob to the table and left the room.
“Jacob! How could you do this to me?” His tone said he blamed Jacob for his arrest.
“Dr. Antonov? How did they find you? What did they bring you in for?”
“Jacob, I meant for you to just watch the show. Maybe see things from a new perspective. I didn’t mean for you to turn into a terrorist!”
“I’m not a terrorist, doctor! They want me to help them find Marcus Weatherly. I don’t know how to find him. And if I did, I’m not sure I’d want to help!”
“If you really don’t know, what do they want from you? What have they done to you? You look awful.” Dr. Antonov’s expression began to soften at the sight of Jacob’s injuries.
“They used me as the practice dummy for hand-to-hand combat class. Have you seen my mom?”
“She’s fine, Jacob, but you need to get out of here and get home to her. This isn’t good for her. What do they want you to do?”
“They want me to tell them everything I remember from our net chats. They’re looking for clues to where to find him.”
Dr. Antonov looked down at the table while he struggled with his thoughts. “Jacob, maybe you should do that. They’re not going to let me go until you help them. I’m a doctor, Jacob, the only doctor that can treat the Wasting in two cities! Who’s going to take care of all of my patients? Who’s going to take care of your mother if you and I are in here? I mean, what’s the harm if you give them a few clues? It’s a big planet. They probably won’t find him.”
Dr. Antonov was pleading and de
sperate. And he had a point. With him in here, who was taking care of everyone, including Jacob’s mom? Jacob was starting to suspect the doctor was right. What could it hurt to give a few clues?
“But Vasiliy, what if I do it and they don’t let us go? If they don’t find Marcus, they’re not going to free us.”
The doctor’s expression was indignant. “Jacob, really, please show some respect for your elders. It’s Dr. Antonov.”
Any hope of getting out evaporated, and Jacob felt the weight of the ceiling, roof, and even the air above crush down on him. He lifted his hanging head and looked at the mirror. “He’s not real. Take him out of here.”
And with that, Dr. Antonov disappeared, and Jacob was alone.
***
What must have been hours passed after Dr. Antonov had disappeared. The large strobe lights kept flashing randomly and generating incredible heat. Jacob’s orange jumpsuit stuck to his body and was soaked through in places. Yelling at the mirror didn’t bring anyone to take him to a restroom, so other parts of his prison uniform were soaked through for other reasons. His lips were parched and cracking. His voice was hoarse from the hot, dry air and from screaming at the mirror. He finally gave up, put his head on the table, and went to sleep.
***
He slept on and off during the night, day, whatever it was. He would wake up, yell at his captors behind the mirror, and try to go back to sleep. He was starting to worry about dehydration and heat stroke. The heat in the room was overwhelming and he had stopped sweating. His vision was blurring and he was having trouble thinking clearly. His head bobbed twice and hit the table hard as he passed out at last.
***
Jacob came to in a blast of pain and cold water, naked on a concrete floor. Two guards were laughing while blasting him with hoses, targeting the bruises that covered his body. As they hit his ribs, he gasped in pain, which got him a mouthful and lungful of water from the other hose. He was coughing, gasping, and trying to drink in the cold water all at the same time. Shivering and writhing in pain, he lost consciousness again.
***
Jacob woke in his cell, in a fresh orange jumpsuit. An IV was dripping fluids into his arm. He knew he was no good to them dead, so they were trying to rehydrate him. He was done helping them keep him alive. He pulled the IV needle from his arm, rolled over, and went back to sleep.
Chapter Thirteen
Jacob again woke in his cell. The IV was back in his arm, but this time both of his arms were taped down to the bed frame. He heard the key in the lock, and two guards came in, both new. One carried cuffs and medical supplies. The other held a long pole, with one end pointed toward Jacob. At the end of the pole were two short metal prongs, and blue electricity arced between them. Jacob had no interest in finding out what that was for.
The guard with the medical supplies cuffed Jacob’s left arm to the bed and then cut the tape restraining him. He removed the IV needle, put a bandage over the spot, and then removed the cuff from the bed and put it on Jacob’s other wrist. Then he cut the tape from his right arm. All the while, the second guard kept the pole pointed at Jacob’s neck.
Medic-guard gestured for Jacob to stand and head toward the door. Both of them fell in line behind him. Once in the hall, Jacob noticed the lights weren’t flashing. They weren’t going to try to get into his head today. As they approached interrogation, Jacob saw Lieutenant Gutierrez standing outside the door. Fear gripped him and squeezed his damaged ribcage as he thought of the last time the lieutenant had been waiting for him. His hands started shaking, and his breathing was rapid and shallow.
The lieutenant turned Jacob down the hall toward the training room. Every step led to greater fear, greater panic. They walked past the deep humming vibration, past the guarded vault door, through the guard post, and finally arrived at the training room door. Jacob was shaking uncontrollably and sweating terribly. A few tears started trickling silently down his cheeks.
“No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No,” he kept saying over and over again. The tears flowed more freely and his legs buckled under him. He hit the floor and lost all control.
“I’ll do it. I’ll tell you everything. I’ll tell you what I know. I know his server addresses, where he was standing while we talked online, what he wears, how he looks now. I don’t care what you want, I’ll do it. Just don’t make me go in there again. I’ll do whatever you want!” Jacob felt on the verge of passing out from panic, and he started telling the lieutenant everything he could think of about Marcus Weatherly. When he was done, he sat on the floor sobbing uncontrollably.
“Thank you, Jacob.” Lieutenant Gutierrez glanced over his shoulder and nodded, and started laughing.
There was a flash, and they were standing in Interrogation. They must have activated his BICE while he was still asleep. It made no sense to do that. Gutierrez could have walked him down the hall for real. There was only one reason to manipulate Jacob through his BICE: to show Jacob that he could get into his head and make him believe it. It didn’t matter anyway. Jacob was done. He just wanted to go home, keep his head down, and never cross the Transport Authority again.
***
Jacob was lying on his cot in his cell, unable to sleep, thinking of Marcus. He hoped that what little information he had given Gutierrez would not be enough for them to find him. The world needed men like Marcus Weatherly to spread the word about what Transport was doing. He could hear them disassembling the lights in the hallway. Now that Jacob was broken, there was no reason to try to manipulate him anymore.
That was an interesting term: broken. He’d heard it used before in reference to people who were tortured, but could never understand it, until today. It was the perfect word. Jacob was broken at a fundamental level. He had lost the ability to distinguish between reality and fantasy. And, at the end, he truly didn’t care if he lived or died. Gutierrez got what he wanted, some pathetic scraps of information not likely to lead them anywhere. Now all Jacob wanted to do was to get out of Transport and contact Marcus to tell him to run.
A guard came to the door and had Jacob perform the ritual he had done many times before: face the door, put his hands through the hole, get cuffed, and then wait to be walked down to Interrogation. This time, it would be his turn to ask questions. Well, only one, really. When was he getting out of here? The guard led him to the door and opened it. Inside, Marcus Weatherly sat handcuffed to the table.
***
“You didn’t do this, Jacob.” Marcus reassured him in his soothing baritone. “You didn’t lead them to me. Don’t believe what this bastard is telling you.”
“Marcus? Is that any way to talk about your old friend?” Gutierrez’s arrogance, normally offensive, was now overwhelming. He turned to Jacob, who was almost fully awake and cuffed to the table next to Weatherly. “Jacob, we can’t thank you enough for helping us apprehend this dangerous terrorist. We couldn’t have done it without the information you willingly provided. I should put you in for a citizen’s commendation.” The lieutenant was beaming. Jacob’s head was spinning. He realized Marcus was talking.
“…it will all come out in my trial. My voice will be heard. The people will know what happens in this building and the others like it across two planets. They will know the true threat to their freedom. They will know the truth for the first time in over 100 years!”
“You’ll never go to trial.” In a single motion, Lieutenant Gutierrez’s hand reached across his body, pulled his sidearm, pointed it at Marcus’s head, and pulled the trigger. Jacob’s vision blurred and his ears rang. He watched in horror as Marcus spattered across the back wall of Interrogation. Jacob pitched forward, retched, and passed out while Roberto Gutierrez laughed.
***
Jacob woke, again, in the infirmary, an IV in his arm, but without handcuffs this time. Apparently, with Marcus Weatherly dead, Jacob Alders was no longer important. Marcus. While in custody, Jacob had come to believe everything Marcus stood for. And then he had gotten the man killed. Jacob
would never forgive himself for that.
A nurse across the room noticed he was awake and came over to the bed. “Good to see you’re up. Let’s see how you’re doing.” She looked over the instruments and made some notes on the tablet she was holding. Jacob appreciated that she was pretty, tall, and blond. Then he noticed her name tag. Alina Antonov, R.N..
“Antonov?” Jacob whispered conspiratorially.
“My uncle,” she whispered. Then she raised her voice to a normal level. “You went into shock, Jacob, and that, along with your earlier injuries, pushed you into a coma. You’ve been out for a while, but you appear to be doing much better. It’s good to have you back.”
“How long?”
“You’ve been in the infirmary for 8 days.” She lowered her voice to a whisper again. “And here for three weeks in all.”
“Three weeks? Do you know where they’ve put my mother for all this time?”
Ms. Antonov pulled up a stool and sat next to Jacob’s bed. She spoke quietly. “I’ve not been able to find out anything about your mother. But we’re going to get you out of here right away so you can get home. There’s no way I should be letting you leave right after you’ve woken from a coma, but it’s safest to get you out of this building before Captain Gutierrez realizes you’re awake.”
“Captain? They promoted him? I think I’m going to be sick.”
“I’m sorry, Jacob.” Alina pulled out a bag from under his bed. “I got you some clothes. I hope they fit. Please put them on. I need to get you out of here.”
“What are you doing? Why are you helping me?”
“Not all of us are as…devout as Captain Gutierrez or Dr. Nichols. Some of us want all of this to end just as much as you do. We’re here to help.”
“There’s nothing to help. I’m done. I’m going home, taking care of my mom, and trying to stay away from this building forever. I’m not here to save the world. I couldn’t even save Marcus.” Jacob looked down in shame as a tear escaped his right eye.