The fat faced man was tied to a chair. I hadn’t hurt him yet, or at least I hadn’t tried to. I knew it wouldn’t help. Jeffrey was the kind of person that people underestimated, but once a guy sentences you to a presumed eternity of poisoning yourself to death (or mindlessness) you see him as something different. He knew everyone that worked there. He hired them. He fired them. He knew what went on. He covered up murders. God knows what else? He was complicit as whoever spent the first dollar on trapping people in clinical trials. Jeffrey never injected the syringe, but I was going to see him pay the price for everyone who ever did.
“Wi-fi password.” I said.
“No.” Jeffrey said.
I wanted to hit him in his gut, but he was zip-tied to a chair that we had bolted to the floor. His gut was hard to access so I did something far less intimidating, and I slapped him across the face. That felt lame. I was disappointed in myself.
“Wi-fi password.”
“No.” Jeffrey said again.
“God dammit Jeffrey, if you make me pull the big guns early I am going to be really sad because the show has a metre, it has a pace. You can’t just start it up full tilt. There has to be a crescendo. You understand? The viewers expect it at this point. Wi-fi password.” I said.
"No.” Jeffrey said again.
“Lance, bolt cutters.” I said.
Lance grabbed the bolt cutters from the toolbox and handed them to me.
“Princess1987.” Jeffrey said quickly.
“Someone go try that and get us up and running. Jeffrey you remember what I told you right? If at any point this thing goes bad, if at any point this place is surrounded by cops and FBI and all that other shit, everybody’s goin’ to Hell, you understand me?” I cocked my pistol for effect. “That best be a real Wi-Fi password.”
Jeffrey remained silent. The man across from him was cloaked in black, and hooded. I had beaten him pretty bad, and I hoped he was still alive. The mixture of the gag and the hood was probably a little much, but there was enough movement coming from him that I figured there was still life in there. He came into play later.
Hank shouted from another room. “Up and running John. You want me to start things?”
I paused. We had thirty minutes? Maybe less? Probably ought to at least try to do this without all the fanfare. The signal was encrypted but that wasn’t going to last long.
“Jeff, let me level with you man. This is going to get bad. Really bad. I don’t have to hurt you. I need the location of BIMPT’s facility in Kansas City. That’s it. You go there. I know you do. You know where it is, and how to get in it, and all you have to do is tell me and I will leave. Then I am gone. If you don’t tell me, I am gonna do a lot of really awful shit to you. Really awful. Because I need that information Jeffrey and I don’t have time to waste. Okay? Can you just tell me? Then we can skip all this.”
Jeffrey was not amused. “My husband is a police officer. He’ll be home soon. He’ll kill your friends and then he’ll call my bosses and then they will send an entire team of people to extract you and wreak absolute hell on you until the end of time. Do you understand me? I’ll give you nothing.”
I sort of figured that. Jeffrey was a company man through and though. Guys like him, they were true believers. They didn’t break. His own Wi-Fi password? Hell, I am sure the deed to his house? He’d snap like a twig. For the company though? Nothing. Underneath all those bowties and bullshit was a genuine sadist. This was why I picked him. I had other names, but most of them were untouchable, unreachable. Penthouse apartments and full security details. Jeffrey was my only real option. High up enough to be know the facts, looked down upon enough by the executive class enough to be cast aside. Jeffrey was my in, and if this didn’t work, there wouldn’t be another chance. He wasn’t going to break easy.
We drug everything down to Jeffrey’s basement, him included. I hardly needed someone noticing a street sign in the background and ratting us out five minutes in. I didn’t plan on being caught again and I wasn’t bluffing when I said I’d see us all in Hell before I saw prison bars or the inside of BIMPT.
“Hank, start it up.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hank gave me the thumbs up. It was go-time.
“Welcome, welcome, welcome everyone, you are probably going to be catching this after it happens, but welcome to John Brunsen’s late night comedy and torture show, what we have tonight is a few special guests. Of course, we have my cameraman Mr. Hank, tonight also joining us we have a couple assistants of mine Mr. Lance and Mr. Kyle, everyone give a round of applause. Yay!!! Those aren’t our only guests though, tonight we are coming live but on a litttttle tape delay to keep me from getting recaptured. We’re here in my underground bunker with a real piece of shit. The one, the only, Jeffrey Pansak!! Yea, everyone give it up. Yea!!!!”
Lance and Hank clapped for effect. My studio audience.
“Tonight’s show is going to be called ‘Show Me the Entrance!’ What I have here in front of me is a map of the greater Kansas City Area. Let me hold this up to the camera real fast so everyone can see, everyone got that? Terrific. Now Jeffrey, what I need you to do is point on this map to how I get into the BIMPT’s secret base or whatever the fuck you guys call it. The place where you bound me and filled me full of poison. You remember that right Jeff? The great thing about this Jeffrey is that we are going to make all the information from this broadcast as freely available as possible so that anyone can go get a tour of the Kansas City branch of BIMPT international. You remember Jeff? The one where you keep all the Grey Plague? You know the one.”
Jeffrey started crying. Good try Jeffrey.
"This man is a lunatic. I’ve never met him before. Someone help.” Jeffrey broke down into sobs.
I shook my head. “Yep…yep. This is what I was afraid of. Jeffrey here is having some trouble remembering exactly what we need. You see, Jeffrey here is a major HR rep for the evil bastards at BIMPT. When they drug me there after Atlanta and forced me to inject Grey Plague into my veins every day, Jeff here is the one who signed the paperwork.”
I held up Jeffrey’s security badge. It said he was HR VP at the Omaha branch. He might be, but it wasn’t how I knew him.
“Omaha? Omaha??? Jeff, I knew you more as a Kansas City boy? You see folks, it’s HIS group that stole my DNA, made a cure out of it and then sold it to everyone one of you as Protectall. Oh shit, did I just let that one slip Jeffrey? I probably wasn’t supposed to tell the whole world about you all using my DNA to create some fucking protein thing that was poisoning everyone to death. See that’s sort of my issue with Jeff and his buddies. The problem Jeff here and the rest of his company never told any of you that he was injecting you with a modified version of my protein or some such shit that protects me from Grey Plague disease or that they complexed it with Grey Plague itself. That’s right folks, we are letting the cat out of the bag tonight. Protectall, the drug you all know and love, is little more than a contraceptive against Grey Plague exposure made with a bit of yours truly and a whole lot of the black shit itself. Now that alone isn’t a problem right? Vaccines and these sorts of things are safe right? Sure, throughout history we’ve used them, but Jeffrey here he and the folks at BIMPT always want to make things better, always want to improve shit. Jeffrey, tell ‘em what it does to people.”
“Help, please! I live at…”
I shoved a sock into Jeffrey’s mouth and pulled back on it to keep him quiet.
“Jeffrey let me just tell them on your behalf. What it does to people is turn them into violent lunatics like me and the boys here, or mindless shamblers like you might see floating around Kansas City. You see what ole Jeffy here wanted to was mind control you poor sad bastards and turn you into a worker drone class for his slavemaster prick bosses at BIMPT. Ole Jeffrey is a gutless fat sack of shit, so he did it for money. The rest of you will do it for free though. You see it happening? How many folks are out there right now who can’t seem to make it out of bed anymore? Why is depression skyrocketing? How come half the country is on fire and the other half is sitting at home in bed? You think all that’s happening out of nowhere? Out of “war depression?” There’s no fucking war! Not a real one! Now we here at the Brunsen show are trying to prevent this from happening, so I need Jeff to point out where BIMPT’s KC HQ is so I can go burn the place down. Jeff, it’s on you man.”
He remained motionless.
"That’s what I was afraid of. Seeing as how we don’t have time for drawing this thing out, let’s bring out our next contestant, meet Officer Derekkkkkkk Pansakkkkkkkkkk.”
Jeffrey’s face dropped. I pulled the hood and displayed the broken carcass of Jeffrey’s husband. The man set before him, beaten half to death by yours truly, wore an officer’s uniform but was hardly recognizable as one. I needed this to work. I needed leverage. Did this guy deserve it? Probably not. But I had taken a blackjack to him anyway.
"Alright Jeffrey, I think you know our next contestant here. I tried to talk to your dear hubby here, but he just wouldn’t point out on the map where it is you go every day. Now I am stuck trying to talk to you. You see Jeff, I was planning on cutting you to ribbons when you wouldn’t talk, but then I realized I would just be offering the same thing the folks at BIMPT did. You wouldn’t talk to me, because if you did, it would only be delaying the inevitable. I had to get real. I had to get raw. So, Jeff, I am not going to hurt you even a little bit. But your dear hubby here? The man you love? I am gonna let Lance beat him to death right in front of you unless you point to me on this map where me and the boys need to go next. Show me on the fucking map Jeff. Point at the map.” I could feel the hair on my neck raise. I could feel the spittle falling out of my lip.
I held the map in front of Jeffrey. Tears fell from his eyes. He tried to spit the gag out, but I held it in.
“Just so you don’t think I am joking, Lance, show ‘em our mettle.”
Lance was a big boy, farm strong and with that southern country flair. We had an old aluminum tee ball bat. Big enough to hurt, but not enough to kill. I held Officer Pansak’s hand out on the table and Lance went at it. The first swing clearly cracked all the bones in his hand, and everything after that was just beating mush. Jeffrey tried to scream out but couldn’t through the sock. Didn’t need the neighbors noticing. I grabbed him by the hair and forced his head to stare at the destruction. When he tried to close his eyes, I gouged him and then held his eyes open. Derek succeeded where Jeffrey failed though, and the screams were getting louder. After about the 15th shot, I held the map in front of Jeffrey. He shook his head no.
"Jeff I really don’t have time for fun and games you understand? Point! Point dammit.”
Jeffrey shook his head no again. Tears rolled down his face as his husband wailed in pain.
"Lance. Hit him in the face.” Lance punched him in the face, then hit him again, then about four more times. I think Lance was having fun.
“Point asshole, fucking point.”
Jeffrey wailed the word no and shook his head.
“I hoped I wouldn’t have to go here Jeff, but you don’t leave me a lot of choice. Lance, hold him down.” I pulled out a 4” long nail and a claw hammer. Derek started struggling.
Derek pleaded with his husband, “No…no no no. Jeffrey tell them, Jeffrey please.”
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
I drove the nail through Derek’s hand into the table. He screamed in pain with every strike. I screamed too, but something different.
“You ready yet Jeff.”
Bang.
“Where’s the fucking base Jeff?”
Bang.
“You ready to talk yet Jeff?
Bang.
"I don’t think he’s gonna be able to tell me.”
Bang.
“Seems like his hands are all tied up.”
Bang.
The screams of Derek Pansack would haunt my dreams if I could ever get to sleep. He was nailed to the table through his left hand.
“That’s not even the trick yet though Jeffyboy. That’s the fucking warmup.”
Lance removed a pair of bolt cutters from our bag. He forced the Officer’s fingers into the cutters one by one and pruned them down to stubs while Jeff struggled against my weight. I held him tight and ripped his eyes open. He was going to watch. I’d make sure of it. The cutters weren’t sharp like we needed. When he got to the thicker fingers, he had to almost jump on top of the cutters to get them through the bone. This sent wails through the room. I’ll admit, even with the Samskara rushing through my veins, even knowing that I was dangerous and violent and mentally disturbed, that sort of shit turns your stomach. I’d watched people melt, I’d napalmed people, and I had probably don’t worse, but seeing a 240-pound man use his body weight as leverage to get an old pair of bolt cutters through the third finger of someone almost made me spill my guts. Officer Pansak had passed out from the pain, but the effect on Jeffrey was still very real. He stopped after number three, leaving a thumb and a pointer.
"Jeff? Any answers? Left a few pointing fingers on your hubby there. Think he knows? Let me ask him. Hey man, where’s your husband work?” I picked his other hand up and it fell flatly to the table leaking bits of sinew, blood and bone, remnants of its adventures with the tee ball bat.
Muffled screams of “stop” from Jeffrey. Jeffrey said “Please, you don’t know what they will do to me.”
"What they will do to you? What about me Jeff? What about what I am going to do to you. I am right here. Right now. I got an acetylene torch in that bag and I am going to melt my initials into your motherfucking stomach if I don’t get what I want? You understand me? I’m running out of time, and I got things to do Jeff. I’m about to get real fucking weird with this.”
Jeffrey’s husband was puking at this point. He was going to die. God dammit. I didn’t think it would go this far and we didn’t have time for any more screwing around.
“Lance, straight to Step 5. We don’t have time for 3 or 4. Jeff, don’t make me do this,” I said.
Jeff looked at his husband and mouthed “I’m sorry, I love you.” There was no reply. I thought the guy was dead already but couldn’t quite tell. Dammit, time to pull the trigger. Lance looked at me. I could tell he didn’t want to do it. I understood. A good captain cleans the bilge and drives the ship.
Hank said “John, stop. Please.” Hank was crying again.
I was growling everything I said at this point. Part of it was for show, part of it was because I had lost myself in the character a long time ago.
Part of it was because the character was me.
“We can’t stop Hank. We are running short on time. Jeffrey here, he doesn’t want to give us the info we need. He’d rather watch his husband die.”
I took out a vial of Grey Plague we had taken from Kansas City. I’d had enough. I was revolting even myself at this point. “See this Jeff? You know what this is? Everyone knows that this is. Jeff you work for BIMPT right? So, you’ve had all your doses of Protectall I’m sure? I am sure your partner has too? Let’s find out.”
“No! NO! Please don’t! Please! I live at 731 Cedarcrest Drive Omaha Nebraska, I…”
I punched him square across the face to shut him up. “Why not Jeff? I heard just the other day that even the CEO himself has had all his doses of Protectall. Isn’t that right? And his wife and family. This couldn’t hurt your hubby could it? How in the world would he not be dosed already?”
I smashed the bottle against the side of the officer’s head. He wrenched in pain as he started melting head to toe. It was quick. At this point, I’d seen it enough that I hardly even got queasy anymore. The rest of them turned away as a melted pile of flesh in a policeman’s uniform leaked off the edges of the table.
“Well, how startling? Now why on Earth would a company man like Jeff here not get his hubby protected? That seems a bit off? Doesn’t it? Any reason why Jeffy? Jeff, maybe you haven’t figured it out, but I’m not fucking around. I got about two more minutes I figure, or everything I’ve done goes to shit. Now you already watched the man you love die with his hand nailed to a table and that didn’t move you. I figure I don’t know what BIMPT said they’d do to you if you told, but I had one last option. Hank, make the call.”
“John…no.” Hank said.
“Lance make the call.”
“John, you can’t do this.” Lance said.
“Gimme the phone,” I said.
I grabbed the phone and called Kyle using FaceCall. Fat Kyle was wearing a ski mask so no one could see his face. Good idea Kyle.
“Hey Kyle, old buddy that you?”
“Sure as shit on Sunday Johnny, how ya doin’ old pal?”
"Just making a show here. You been watchin’?” I said.
“Sure have. Right shitty of that som’bitch to watch his husband die.” Kyle was really enjoying his time on TV.
“Why don’t you tell us who you got with you?”
Fat Kyle ran his finger down the side of the little girl’s face. “This here? This is Little. Ava. Walscott.” The way he punctuated each word was perfect. Fat Kyle was a natural.
Jeffrey’s eyes lit up.
“Why don’t you tell the crowd who Ava Walscott is Jeff?”
Jeffrey looked at me with pure hatred. “You’re a fucking monster. How could you? You wouldn’t.”
"Short on time Jeff, remember? See folks, that man there is my old buddy Fat Kyle and who he has with him is the only daughter of a man named Dan Walscott. Dan was Jeffrey’s buddy over at BIMPT. You see, Dan and Jeffrey worked together a long time. They were pals. Dan, he uhh… Dan was a bit of a prick to me too. Sure, he only gave me a few beatings, and maybe he was just doing it for the paycheck, but I hold guys like him accountable same as my friend Jeffo here. And accountable he shall be. Folks, Dan has a kid. A little girl. It was one of the things I remembered about him between him striking me, tazing me, and generally accosting me on a week-to-week basis. Why don’t you show us Ms. Walscott again Kyle?”
Kyle pointed his phone towards a little girl. She was sitting in a chair, holding a stuffed toy white dog. She was motionless and crying. She looked like a sweet kid. This would probably scar her forever. I hated that part. Hank was right, it wasn’t supposed to come to this. Am I a monster? Do I still know where the line is? I can see it in the distance, but I worry I might be looking backwards.
"Now Jeffrey, it turns out that I couldn’t scare you into giving the information up and I couldn’t force you to by killing your husband in front of you. But maybe there is someone else that can. I’m gonna grab your phone right here and I am going to call up Dan Walscott and oh, hey, look at that. Look who is calling us. Mr. Walscott himself. Maybe he was already aware his little girl didn’t make it home from school today and he beat me to the punch. Hello?” I made an over-the-top gesture to note I was answering Jeffrey’s phone. “Let’s put him on speaker, shall we?”
Dan’s voice trembled. I heard sobs in the background. There was 100% chance this call was being traced, and we were definitely found, so I’d have to get this done quick. “You sick piece of shit. If that man hurts her, I will find you and kill everyone you know.”
“Everyone I ever knew or loved is dead Dan. You can’t hurt me. You really can’t. I can hurt you though. See Kyle there, Kyle’s a sadist. Everything you’ve seen here, Kyle has much worse planned for little Ava.”
Hank was shaking now. He could hardly hold the camera still. Too much dopamine. Shit like this fucks you up when you take the poison.
“Lance, grab the camera. Like I was saying, Kyle, he’s evil. Not evil like me, but real evil. The sick shit kind. Think of something really fucking awful. He’s gonna do that to her and worse and when he’s done, he’s gonna carve her little body into red ribbons and wear it around like a Santa Suit on Christmas Day. And I’m gonna let him Dan. Hell I might even throw around some entrails myself.” The words coming out of my mouth were increasingly unhinged. I was worried I couldn’t come back from this.
I’m not the bad guy. Remember?
Right?
My whole body was shaking, red with rage. “Now I got the reins on Kyle right now, but I am going to give him my permission to do whatever he wants unless I get what I need. You understand me Jeffrey? You understand what I am saying to you right now? Do you understand what I am fucking telling you right now?” I heard my voice getting untamed, louder. I felt the spittle fly wildly from my mouth with everything I said. Deep down, I felt the Samskara, telling me it was ok. Telling me to let loose. Telling me this wasn’t it, that I go further, harder, faster. Stop being a pussy. Do it. “Count of 10 before we livecast what I promise you will be not safe for TV. Do you understand me? Do you want to watch this, or do you want to give me what I want? Gimme what I want Jeff. Give me what I want! Give me what I want Jeff!” Fully unleashed, fully unbridled, I heard the terror in my own voice. It scares the hell out of me and a small part of me dies. I feel that little bit of humanity quenched from existence and it’s just another thing I killed. Oh well. Probably won’t be the last today.
Kyle, playing the role to perfection, pulled a knife from his back pocket and ran it across his tongue and smiled the sort of smile that only the most depraved can pull off. For a man of God, Kyle was pretty fucked up.
“Jeffrey please God, please God tell them. No, don’t, John I’ll tell you. John I know. Tell him to stop. It’s at 39.12 latitude/94.578 longitude. The entrance is inside an old shopping mall. There is a pharmacy, Winstead’s. You press….”
Jeffrey started screaming at the top of his lungs. Screaming. Whenever Dan would start to talk the screaming would get louder. I couldn’t believe it. He was even more fucked up than me.
I was calmer now. Externally at least. Internally things were a rolling boil, but the show must go on. “Well, would you look at that ladies and gentlemen? When Dan here tries to protect his daughter, Jeff starts screaming? This man would rather see a little girl come to harm’s way than have me know where he works. Why on Earth would that be? That seems a bit peculiar doesn’t it? A man willing to watch his husband die, to watch a little girl tortured, just so I don’t know where he works? Wait didn’t you tell me you work here in Omaha Jeff? Does that seem odd to anyone else?”
Dan shouted out the rest of the latitude and longitude. Jeffrey screamed, begging him to stop, but I carefully took the numbers down and shoved them in front of the camera for the whole world to see. I took a moment to look at the camera. 37 million concurrent live viewers. That outta do it.
"Thank you very much Dan. You know I always did enjoy working with you.” I stopped for a second, but the sadistic part got the best of me.
I heard myself say it and it made me sick inside. Then the dopamine hit, and it was all better. That was the hard part of this. Being happy when you did something wrong.
“Kyle, kill her.”
Dan screamed as I hung up on Kyle and him both at the same time. The call had been three minutes and 28 seconds according to the wall clock I was watching. That was probably way too long. At this point, I figured we had no more than a few minutes left. Time to roll. The kid would be a decent distraction.
“Jeffrey, thanks for playing, but we have to be getting on home now. I need to be back to Kansas City. I have a rebellion to oversee. Allow me to leave a parting gift.”
I threw another small glass vial of the Samskara substance on the table in front of Jeffrey.
“Tomorrow’s gonna come Jeff. And all this is going to be real. Take the easy way out. I’d rather spend the rest of my life knowing you were going to live through this every moment of yours, but quite frankly, I’m just not as fucked up as you.”
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We were cruising with around a few thousand other cars all headed south towards Kansas City. It was a caravan of nutjobs, psychos, druggies, goofballs, and people who just wanted to see some weird shit. I was their leader, hiding in plain sight. Just another van full of fuckos cruising down to KC to see the circus. I had insisted the whole team take meds as soon as we were out of Jeffrey’s house. I was fighting off passing out from the clonazepam, slurring my words and twitching like a bastard. “Rousing success boys. Way to go team. Sirens are behind us, and quite frankly, I think we did a hell of a job.”
No one spoke. Hank hadn’t looked at me. Lance either. Hank wouldn’t take the meds and I didn’t know how long he could make it without.
“Let me out Lance. Let me out right fucking now. LET ME OUT!” Hank was screaming and beating his head against the seat in front of him. He started pulling on his ears until the skin cracked at the edges. It would've shocked me, but I think that was the first thing he ever said to me that didn’t have a question in it in a month.
“Can’t do that Hank. Not until we get back to KC,” I said.
Hank settled into his seat, head towards the ground, unmoving. I saw him biting his cheek. He spat the blood into the floorboard and stared playing in it with his shoe.
We drove to the meetup point to pick up Kyle. He met us halfway between Omaha and Kansas City. He was leaned against the back of the car, bag of cocaine in hand, digging out the last measly rations he could acquire. Not exactly what I would’ve called inconspicuous.
Hank was the first one out of the car. He charged towards Kyle. I didn’t see the knife until too late. He swung wild and missed. Kyle grabbed his wrist and tried to pull the knife away, but he just ended up with a gaping cut across his palm. I screamed at Hank to stop, but he was a man possessed. It was a feeling I knew, which also meant he wasn’t stopping. He took two more wild swings at Kyle before Kyle turned the other way and ran. Hank gave chase, but Kyle was faster. A shot rang out and I saw Hank fall. Lance was holding a smoking gun beside me.
"What’d you do that for?” I asked.
“I missed. First time in a while. Was trying to hit Kyle but dipshit got in the way,” Lance said. I put my hand on Lance’s and lowered the gun. He looked at me disdainfully. I don’t think it was his intention to miss again.
Kyle stopped and ambled back to us, hand wrapped up in his shirt. Lance had hit Hank in the lower back. I’d seen enough gun shots in my life by this point to know what the outcome was. The way his legs were moving, or lack thereof. Paralyzed for sure.
"Why’d you do it Kyle? Why? She was a little girl.” Hank said in agonizing breaths.
God dammit. This is my fault.
Kyle just laughed. “Dropped her off at the corner of her mother’s block before I came you ignorant piece of shit. The last thing Johnboy said to me was ‘Kyle, you are not to hurt the little girl under any circumstances, no matter what I say, do you understand?’ And what kind of first-rate piece of shit do you think I am? And you John? Why even say to another man? I ain’t some fucking disgusting pervert. God damn. Ya’ll are some fucked up motherfuckers ya know. Real good job on the livecast though.” Kyle pulled his bag of drugs, now waning to the point of tiny bits of powder. He began shaking it, attempting to get out the final units of his never-ending high.
Hank lay on the ground, blood welling beneath him. Whimpering and staring up at me. I’d like to say what I felt was pity, but it was worse than that. I was reminded of Hank’s own story. About him and his dog.
“Lance, gun.”
Lance handed me the gun and I shot Hank in the face.
"Had to be done. Couldn’t handle the dopamine kick. Too dumb to medicate it. Let’s go.”
Kyle and Lance looked at each other and we got back in the van.