––––––––
“Now that we have that unpleasantness out of the way, we can begin.” Smith’s voiced moved from behind me to directly in front. “Is there anything you want to say?”
If I were being honest, I wanted to cry like a little child. They’d just screwed a helmet to my head. Metal screws didn’t mesh well with skin and bone.
Blood soaked my hair, coated my neck and shoulders. Head wounds bled like a bitch. I couldn’t see myself, but between the blood, science-fiction-styled helmet, and nakedness, well, I probably looked kinda funny.
I didn’t feel funny, though. I felt like the bottom of a shoe after a marathon.
“What are you going to do to me?” My voice came out small and pathetic.
“Nothing good, I’m afraid. We have two known instances of you using telekinesis. Both of them revolve around pain, stress, and anger. We’re going to inflict the pain to trigger the stress and anger responses we’re looking for.”
My shoulders trembled as I fought against the fear gripping me. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me panic, but it was kind of hard to stay calm after someone had screwed a helmet onto your head.
“With any luck, we’ll get some interesting readings from this.” Smith’s voice moved further away, as if he’d walked across the room. “You should have taken my offer. Do you think they care that you’re going to suffer? They’ll be happy when you’re gone. You could have unearthed their secrets, fought against their corruption. But now, you’re here. And for what? What have you done?”
A warm tear spilled from my eye. “I’ve gotten people who care about me killed.”
I could feel the soft touch of Sammy’s lips on mine. I could see the way her eyes had dimmed as I’d held her during her last moments. Smith was right. I hadn’t accomplished anything. My telepathy had always been a curse to me. I should have used it for something more than an excuse to get drunk and wallow in self-pity.
Everything that had happened to me was because I refused to step up. I’d been reactive instead of proactive.
“Then help us, Mr. Benson. You know what I’m saying is true. You saved President Thomas from Murdock that day and what has it gotten you? What has he done with it? Nothing. The system grinds on. You think I’m a monster, but I’m the only one who has done anything to protect this country.”
“Okay... okay.” I swallowed a lump that formed in my throat. “Before we go any further, I need a guarantee from you.”
“Yes?” Smith’s voice moved closer. He sounded hopeful.
“Promise me you won’t tell anyone I peed myself when we get this party started. I’d hate to have my manly illusion shattered by a little bit of torture and urine.”
Smith exhaled gruffly right in front of the helmet. “Have it your way. We’ll see how sarcastic you are in a few minutes.”
“Don’t be mad, Smithy. You have to understand how important my tough-guy image is.”
“You should have let me sew his mouth shut,” the other asshole said.
“Good-bye, Mr. Benson.” Smith’s voice was even quieter, as if he’d moved back to the door.
“I’ll be seeing you soon.” I straightened out in the chair, squared my shoulders. “And then I’ll kill you.”
The door closed and silence enveloped me.
The only sensory perception I had was the feel of the chair underneath me and the pounding in my head from the screws. I couldn’t see anything, not even a sliver of light. The helmet had my nose mashed down, making it difficult to breathe through. Not that there was anything worth smelling just then anyway. I was sure I reeked of sweat, blood, and fear.
The machine on the cart beside me beeped.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t jump a little.
As the drug they’d given me continued to flush from my system, my thoughts cleared. I tried to reach out with my mind, to feel the presence of Smith and the man who wanted to practice being a seamstress with my face.
Nothing.
Either the drugs still had enough of a hold on me that I couldn’t use my ability or the helmet really did work the way Smith had said. If they’d figured out a way to nullify telepathy, then I was little more than a helpless dude strapped to a chair.
A jolt of electricity zapped into my back, ass, and legs.
Rigidity froze my body. All of my muscles contracted. Lightning flashed through me, my nerve endings on fire. My teeth clacked together.
And then it was gone.
I slumped back into the chair, gasping. The whole thing had lasted just a few seconds, but it felt like an hour. I’d never suffered through any kind of electrocution before save a Taser a fellow officer had zapped me with in Iraq on a dare. That had sucked.
The chair was on another level.
It made sense to me to me then why the chair was metal.
Another current zapped me. I yelped and bucked against my bindings, tearing at them like a wild animal. It didn’t help. The torture stretched for five seconds, and then ten. When the misery finally relinquished its grip on me, I almost passed out.
Cramps racked my calves and feet. My fingernails had bit into my palms, drawing blood. My jaw ached from clamping shut. A mouth guard would have been nice. If I wasn’t careful, I could bite off my tongue or a lip.
Talking shit would be difficult because of that.
They electrocuted me again.
And again.
I screamed. A lot.
I braced myself for another jolt, but it didn’t come right away. My body shook in anticipation of the pain as I waited with bated breath. The waiting was almost as bad as the electrocution.
Almost.
Rage blossomed during the lull in torture. I knew that was what they wanted and I tried to fight it, but I failed miserably. Knowing I was succumbing to Smith only made me angrier. Unlike the other times when fury had overtaken my thoughts, nothing vibrated around me.
Nothing moved.
The contraption covering my head prevented me from doing anything.
Gritting my teeth, I slammed the back of the helmet off the chair. A fresh wave of misery ran through my skull, but I didn’t care.
I slammed it off the chair again.
They zapped me then, and all voluntary movement ceased. Spittle flew from my mouth. Blood poured down my neck. The chair grew hot under me, though I could barely feel it.
Just as I slipped toward unconsciousness, the electricity released me.
My bladder let go.
I sat there, slumped over, chest heaving. “Can someone bring me an adult diaper?”