by Alan Spencer
Joey tensed his grip on Susan's leash. "No. I understand. This is where I belong. My family is here. My friends are here. My life is here."
Susan could see terror on Joey's second head. And were those tears in both of their eyes?
The elevator opened to the second floor.
"I'll take the leash, Joey," Hangman said. "Now go on. Let Dr. Prater look you over."
The area outside the elevator was the furthest thing from a doctor's waiting room. Dozens of men in those greasy painter's suits stood in place with their heads down. A rope cordoned a long line leading into the doctor's office. Whatever was beyond those double doors, Susan knew it brought tension and fear into the workers.
Susan had trouble meeting the eyes of those in line. She saw a woman whose face was covered in dozens of eyes, a bared sinus cavity for a nose, and a lipless mouth. Another man's face had melted, making it look like a surface of melting candle waxberries. He had a mouth at his throat, and a single eyeball peering out of what used to be a chin. Others were equally as disfigured by exposure to hazardous materials.
Joey entered the room with his head down, and stepped into the line.
The elevator closed.
Hangman sighed. "I feel for them. I meet with Dr. Prater as often as they do. Our bodies are affected by this island, as you can see. Sometimes we need corrective surgeries, and Dr. Prater is a genius when it comes to skin grafts, transplants, and cancer removals. We have to keep our workers going, and when they need modifications, it can be quite painful. We don't always have narcotics on hand, so..."
"Do you ever go under the knife without narcotics?" Susan dared to ask. Why did Hangman feel the need to justify the scene when she hadn't said a single word? She knew how these bastards functioned and survived their day-to-day life. They fed themselves bullshit lies and believed every syllable as truth.
Hangman huffed, turned his head to the side, and didn't reply.
The time stretched on as the elevator counted down to level one. When the elevator opened, Susan faced a narrow walkway. She imagined a poorly kept police station. The walls were bare wood. The ceiling had exposed light fixtures. The incandescent beams were over bright. Worse yet were the orange-brown spatters on every surface.
Blood spatters.
How many people were forced down these halls and beaten? The doors were made of solid steel. Perfect for entrapment. She heard people wailing in pain. The sharp cracking of whips. The dripping of water as somebody was being water boarded. Steel instruments scraped against bone. A man was verbally grilling somebody as they cried and begged for understanding. Susan caught a partially open door where five of the henchmen were savagely beating a man who was naked and covered in blood and bruises. Another room, she caught a man being injected with truth serum. A man in scrubs was checking the needle and I.V., while another asked questions and wrote down things on a notepad. A different room had a long window showing a series of large wooden boxes. A henchmen was walking by, rapping a club against the boxes, and laughing his head off. Susan knew people were in those boxes. It was another form of torture. In other corners, people were standing on platforms with their arms tied up over their heads. How many hours had they stood there in anguish?
Susan lost her spine in that moment. Having a fight or flight attitude meant nothing here. They were in control. These horrible people had the numbers, the evil inside them, and the full, unchecked capabilities of turning one's sanity inside out, and shitting on their souls.
She was losing feeling in her body. Everything was going numb. Hangman kept guiding her on by the dog leash through various rooms turned into cages and torture chambers. The area changed from torture chambers to prison cells. Steel doors kept their inhabitants a secret. New smells hit her in the face: shit, blood, sweat, and piss, and a sharp chemical smell, like burnt plastic and bleach met with something that made the face and throat sting. She was breathing in noxious fumes. It was making her dizzy. Her steps were wobbly.
"Almost there," Hangman said, tugging back on her leash. "Two more doors, and we're there. Hang on, Ms. Branch."
Hangman was behind her now, holding her up so she couldn't tip over and crash to the ground. They closed in on a single steel door. When Hangman opened the door, he also removed the collar and forced Susan through the threshold.
Before the door closed, Hangman laughed under his breath, and said, "I'll give you a few minutes to catch up with your father. I'm sure Lee will be happy to see his daughter again."
Hangman gave her one hard push before shutting the door. Susan landed on her knees. The sharp pain in her bones woke her from that chemical fog.
The cell wasn't very big. It barely held one person, a cot, and a toilet. The walls were a drab gray color. She imagined the color of a nail's head. Someone could easily lose their sanity in such a place.
The person who occupied the cell with her wasn't familiar at first. Who could recognize anybody who had undergone such a hideous transformation? She imagined a man whose skin had melted like wax, then hardened, and stayed that way permanently. All of his features had sagged, creating an exaggerated expression of sadness. The man couldn't wear clothing, except white pants made out of a plastic material.
"Dad...is that you?"
Her voice was choked with tears. She reached out to hold him, but Lee told her to stay away.
"My nerves are exposed," Lee growled. "Every moment I stand here in the open air is agony. I've had chemicals and pollutants injected into me intravenously. They've perfected mutation on human subjects. They take people out of prisons, inject them with shit, and put them to work. It all adds up to instant enslavement."
Susan told her father she loved him, and what monsters Hangman and the people on this island were. Lee didn't hear a word of it.
Lee had a message of his own to relay.
"I waited for you, Susan. I have a plan to save you now that you're here. I knew they'd bring you here, otherwise, I would've chewed my wrists open and killed myself by now. My God, the pain is so unbearable. But this isn't about me anymore. It's about preserving the cause. If it's my dying act to keep The Green Project a reality, then so be it."
Lee put his hands into hers and whispered, "I know they're going to put you down in the basement in a cage. Don't be scared. Whatever they threaten you with, I'll protect you. I have a plan. You'll know when I've started that plan. Just wait for the screaming to start."
Before Susan could say something else, Hangman re-entered the cell. He hooked the dog leash back onto the collar at her neck.
"I see father and daughter environmentalist have been reacquainted. You didn't bother giving daddy a kiss on his melted cheese mouth. Don't feel bad, Susan. I wouldn't pucker up to that hot pizza face in a million years.
"But you, Susan, have quite a body on you. You'll be wonderful to boost morale here on the island. Just as often as we have to keep our employees subservient, we have to justify our cause with reward. Your sweet ass is that reward. And know this, Lee, I'll be the first to taste your daughter's sweetness. Then the others will turn her inside out until she's so used up, I'll throw her to the cannibals. If they don't rape her to death, they'll at least eat the meat from her bones.
"Know this. As long as Globo Corps tells me to keep this island running, nobody will ever stop us. It's good this island's here. Eager environmentalists like yourselves will keep sticking their necks out when I dangle the bait in front of their faces. They'll keep coming right to me, and I'll keep killing them."
Hangman threw his head back and unleashed his evil laugh. Then Susan was out of the cell. Hangman kept jerking back on the leash. Soon, she was back in the elevator.
I know they're going to put you down in the basement in a cage.
Lee promised to protect her.
That gave her a shred of hope.
As the elevator ticked down to the basement level, Susan remembered her father's instructions.
All she had to do was wait for the screaming to start t
o be saved.
The Basement Level
The elevator stopped at the basement level. Hangman kept the elevator doors from opening and gave Susan a final warning. "I know the condition of your father may come as a shock to you. I've merely been building up your tolerance for the unbelievable things coming your way. My enemies can't think I'm going soft on anybody, male or female, pretty or not. They're going to pick on you down here. My men, after a long hard day of working with the risks surrounding them here on the island, they sure like to take out their frustrations on a nice piece of ass. You're the nicest, newest piece we've come across in awhile now, Susan. I won't lie and say you'll one day survive this and be set free, because you won't. You will die here. How you'll die will remain a mystery. You'll either die of exhaustion, internal bleeding, contamination, infection, or you'll simply will yourself to die like a few of our previous members have. Your father can't save you. And you should thank me for letting you see him one more time. Most people in my position wouldn't even give you that. Remember that when it's my turn with you in the luxury suite."
Hangman pressed the button that opened the elevator doors without another word. He guided her down to what resembled a prison. Iron-barred cells were lined up together so far back she couldn't see the end of them. Men and women wore tatters and rags for clothes. They were covered in bruises, exhausted, beaten, and ruined of will. Susan could see it, smell it, and sense the heavy burden of broken hope in the air. Some, so mentally depleted, lay on cots either shivering in fear or so far out of their minds they had permanently checked out on reality. Guards walked the narrow concrete lane carrying shock prods and greedy smiles.
One of the burly, bald headed men who could've passed for a shaved bull greeted Hangman, "Another one for the luxury suite?"
Susan caught sight of what merited a luxury suite. A simple door with pink lettering: Luxury Suite.
"Yes, she's a new addition to our collection," Hangman said. "And this one's special. This is Lee Branch's daughter, Susan. She's going to get run through dirty. I want to be the first at her. Nobody touches her. Got that? And if I find out otherwise, everybody on staff right now, including you, Stags, will be executed by me personally."
"No worries, sir," Stags reassured his boss. His eyes showed reverence. "She's all yours. First run."
Hangman opened the nearest cell that was unoccupied. He unhooked Susan's leash from the collar, and forced her by the arm into the cell. Hangman threw the door shut, and hurried off to perform other duties.
Stags stood at her cell door. He was grinding his pelvis into the bars. "I'm going to split you in two when I get the chance. Hangman will open you up, and then I'll be there to really finish you off. I go long and deep."
The guard was panting. Susan noticed his lungs were on the outside of his body. They were covered in mucus that bled through the jailor's dark blue uniform.
"I'll get my turn with you," Stags whispered. "Me and you have a date in the luxury suite. Be thinking about me, sweetie. Know you're on my mind, baby."
Stags dragged the electric prod across the iron bars. Jagged blue forks of electricity shot forth from the prod in all directions. Susan screamed, backing into a corner to avoid any chance of being jolted.
Stags enjoyed his moment, then he returned to his duty of patrolling the cells like nothing had happened.
Susan sat on the greasy cot. She eyed the sink in the wall that was the color of nicotine, and the toilet without a lid. The floor was sticky with dried blood, snot, and semen. Nobody cleaned this place. This was designed to demoralize and degrade. She had been in here mere minutes. What would days do to her? Weeks?
Her neighbors were silent, sitting rigid in their beds. They refused to meet her gaze. If anybody made a sound, she assumed Stags paid them a visit.
There wasn't much for her to do now, but wait and play along. The longer she stayed here, absorbing the stink and the atmosphere of hopelessness, the more Susan craved escape.
Running away wouldn't be enough, Susan realized. The guards, the dinosaurs, the cannibals, and Hangman all spelled trouble. As soon as she stepped foot out of this cell, she would have to kill to protect herself. Susan easily reconciled the notion of murdering in the name of self-defense.
She returned to the simple plan.
Listen for the screaming to start.
Part Three: All Shit Hits the Fan
Streak in the Night
Pierce was neck-deep in dirt. The dinosaur bone served well as a shovel as he pummeled furiously at the soft earth. He had worked below the perimeter fence and was now crossing over to the other side. He realized a few things as his body worked mindlessly at the task of digging. The people in charge hadn't faced off with a worthy opponent before. The cannibals wouldn't understand technology, and how it could be breached. Dinosaurs were in the same predicament. They feared pain, and couldn't think beyond digging under a fence and entering the compound. Now that he was where he needed to be, standing on the opposite side of the fence, Pierce wasn't sure what to do. There was no spotlights or alarms going off. Nobody knew he was here.
What are you going to do now? Knock on the front door and demand them to hand over Susan? She could be dead. You're going to be dead if you don't start thinking.
Until he could prove otherwise, Pierce considered Susan alive.
Pierce sprinted across an open grassy area. It took him minutes to reach the wall of the compound. He spotted watchtowers at a front gate, and nothing else. He scanned the building for windows, doors, or any breachable point. Pierce only noted the front gate, a circular courtyard area, and double doors that led inside. This was where a giant spotlight illuminated the area. They had planned this well. Only one place to enter or leave. That made the guard's job easier. That didn't leave much for Pierce to do.
His mind turned over the possibilities. Every avenue started and ended with those front double doors. He had to find safe access through those doors. Then he could comb the inside rooms and learn the layout.
This plan is outright fucked.
Pierce imagined the mercenaries chiming in, berating him that he indeed was fucked, and fucked hard.
No, I'm not fucked. I made it this far against the odds. I'll keep going. If I can't find Susan, I'll take this place down. I'm not slapping the cuffs on anybody's hands. I'm bringing down the guillotine blade. I'm chopping off heads. I'm going to serve my own brand of jus—
Voices.
Pierce stopped thinking, and stayed crouched down against the wall.
"You mean you told Hangman you murdered that asshole under the waterfall, and you didn't really kill him?"
"He hit me good over the head with something. I'm still cleaning the blood out of my eyes." Pierce recognized Willy's voice. The man was good and pissed off. "I was dizzy walking the whole way here. I called you, buddy, because I don't trust anybody else to help me without ratting me out to the boss."
"You did the right thing, Willy. I'll help you find that bastard."
"I was almost attacked by a Stegosaurus on the way here. The head on that long neck about reached down and swallowed me up whole. I'm telling you those green fuckers got a beef with us. They act scared, but I swear, if they had their chance, they'd kill us all. They want our blood and bones."
"Forget about those dinosaurs," Willy's friend reassured him. "We got this handled. One day, Hangman will get the okay from the big bosses to 86 those prehistoric assholes. Until then, we keep our cool. I bet you the man you're looking for got gobbled up by some wild beast out there. You're probably worrying about a dead guy."
"I don't know. This guy, he's slippery. We shot him out in the ocean, and even with a bullet in him and no supplies, he managed to survive. He can't be an environmentalist. This guy has training. He could be from another organization that can do more than make hemp products and churn out organic foods."
While they were talking, they were both smoking a cigarette and coming right his way. It was dark, Pierce reasoned, but if t
hey kept coming, they would notice him. Pierce scrambled to think. Running would be stupid. The only thing to do was to hold onto the hope that they would somehow overlook him.
"Hey, look over there!"
Damn it all!
Willy was the second pair of eyes to land on Pierce. "Wait a minute. That's the guy. That's him!"
"Great. Let's beat the shit out of him."
Pierce didn't give the speaker a chance to take a single step towards him. He remembered the dinosaur bone he clutched in his hands. Pierce drove it up high, swinging down like a hammer over the henchmen's skull. The bone shattered on impact. Bone to skull, the crippling connection sounded like an exploding cinder block. The man buckled as blood flowed down his face. Landing on the grass, his feet did a nerve dance, and he was either dead, or on his way to being dead.
Willy was a human spear, launching himself at Pierce. They both landed against the bare grass and rolled, rolled, rolled. Willy was all fists and savage anger. Pierce didn't know what hit him. His ribs, skull, jaw, and kidneys swelled from the pain of the swift beat down. Another winning blow from Willy, and Pierce's skull rang like a gong. He realized how weak he was, suffering the impossible survival conditions, and fighting against an enemy that had every advantage.
Willy was hysterical. The madman was hurling curses, unleashing tracks of spit, yanking Pierce's hair, biting his neck and shoulder, and unleashing every ounce of venom from the darkest pit of his soul. Pierce was overpowered by the henchmen. He only had one shot of re-taking control of the fight. Pierce unleashed a growl so animal, so alien, Willy lost his gall. Bunching up his fist, channeling every remaining bit of strength left inside him, the catapult of flesh and bone and force was snapped back, and spring-ejected forward. Pierce's wicked punch landed under Willy's chin. His teeth clacked together, and Willy's eyeball shot out of the socket again, but this time, the pink orb attached snapped. Willy's eyes bounced onto the ground. The orb was quickly lost in the dark.