Spoiler! :
Phones Chapter 12 – Bad Company
Kyle Washington’s eyelids began to flutter. His breathing quickened. All of a sudden, he bolted upright in his chair – or would have, if his arms and legs hadn’t been tightly bound. His eyes swiveled wildly. A bright light shining into his eyes hurt to look at, so he squinted and attempted to figure out where he was. He looked down at his body and saw a plethora of intravenous hoses running into both of his arms from a variety of what appeared to be medical equipment. He was too disoriented to be worried about it. He couldn’t remember anything. Something deep in his mind prompted him – the rally. You were at the rally. You spoke about… something. Exactly what he had spoken about eluded his foggy mind. But everything after that was completely blank. As blank as the whitewashed walls in his cell. He could tell there was something different about the wall behind the light, but he couldn’t bring his eyes to focus on it. Two men stood behind that wall, looking through a pane of one-way glass. They had been watching Kyle sleep with detached interest; one man scrolled through a document on his glasses, the other puffed absentmindedly on an unfiltered cigarette and stared into space. A small red light came on above the door – someone, somewhere else in the building, had unlocked it. The man with the glasses walked in first while the second took one final drag of the cigarette and stubbed it out into an ashtray, leaving it with several more of its’ burnt-out brothers.
Kyle heard a muffled click and sensed motion behind the light. All of a sudden, respite. Someone had turned the light off. He breathed a sigh of relief, something he probably wouldn’t have done had he known what was about to happen. He saw two men. One had a thick head of brown hair cut high and tight. He carried himself like a military man. One skill necessary to Kyle’s profession was the ability to quickly read people, a skill Kyle had honed to an edge sharper than any blade. Even through the fog of the drugs pumping through his system Kyle could feel that this man was someone to be afraid of. His eyes were hidden behind mirrored sunglasses, but his square, heavy-set jaw, barrel chest, and sledgehammer fists were enough to convince Kyle not to make him angry. The second man was much harder to read, however. Pale and lean, he seemed to walk without thought. His shaven head, hooked nose, and gaunt facial structure gave him the appearance of a bird of prey, yet his motions belied any semblance of grace. He did not look directly at Kyle but instead seemed to stare off into space. Kyle could not directly see his eyes. The two men walked behind him, out of sight. A neck brace prevented him from turning his head all the way around to see what the men were doing. A few lifetimes passed before one of them spoke.
“Do you know where you are?”
Kyle couldn’t see the speaker, but he could tell it was Barrel Chest that spoke. He mustered up all of his wits and replied “No, but I’d like a lawyer. And I’d like my phone call. Now.” The last thing he expected was the booming laugh that echoed through the tiny room. Kyle knew from the pitch of the sound that it had to have come from Barrel Chest.
Barrel Chest walked around and stood a few feet in front of Kyle, chuckling to himself. “Well, I have good news, and I have bad news. Which do you want to hear first?”
“I don’t care,” Washington announced, defiant.
“Then we’ll start with the good news. The good news is that you won’t need a lawyer,” Barrel Chest announced. He paused for emphasis. “The bad news is that you won’t need a lawyer.” He lumbered around to where Washington could see him and chuckled at the confused look in Kyle’s eyes. “As far as the world knows, you’ve been arrested after a lengthy investigation and are being charged with domestic terrorism charges. The proof is irrefutable. You will never see the light of day ag-“
“That’s impossible. I am not a terrorist,” Kyle interrupted. The anger and fear were palpable in his voice, coursing through each word like an electrical current. Again, Barrel Chest released a booming laugh.
“You think I don’t know that? And for future reference, I strongly dislike it when people interrupt me. That’s something you should remember. You’re probably wondering where you are – don’t worry about it. It’s irrelevant. As far as you should be concerned, the three of us-“ he pointed at himself, then Kyle, then the unidentified man lounging in the corner, “are the only humans who still exist. This room is now your world. Everything you say will be used against you… until you say what I want you to say.” He paused and arched an eyebrow at Kyle, signaling that Kyle could speak.
“And what’s that, if I may ask?”
“That you’re a terrorist, obviously. I’d think a man of your intelligence would’ve figured that out by now.” He chuckled again, amused by his own words. “Before you ask: no, you will not be leaving this room. Well, you might. In a bag.” He chuckled again. “You will live until someone tells me that you’re no longer useful, at which point I will push this button-“ he points at a small blue button on the medical equipment hooked to Kyle’s body “- and your world will go dark. Don’t worry, it won’t be painful. That part, at least. As for what happens until then, I will make no such guarantee.” Upon the completion of his sentence, the door clicked again. A small light on the door frame turned green and the two men exited the room as quickly as they had come, leaving Kyle to wonder what the hell was happening to him.
Kyle Washington’s eyelids began to flutter. His breathing quickened. All of a sudden, he bolted upright in his chair – or would have, if his arms and legs hadn’t been tightly bound. His eyes swiveled wildly. A bright light shining into his eyes hurt to look at, so he squinted and attempted to figure out where he was. He looked down at his body and saw a plethora of intravenous hoses running into both of his arms from a variety of what appeared to be medical equipment. He was too disoriented to be worried about it. He couldn’t remember anything. Something deep in his mind prompted him – the rally. You were at the rally. You spoke about… something. Exactly what he had spoken about eluded his foggy mind. But everything after that was completely blank. As blank as the whitewashed walls in his cell. He could tell there was something different about the wall behind the light, but he couldn’t bring his eyes to focus on it. Two men stood behind that wall, looking through a pane of one-way glass. They had been watching Kyle sleep with detached interest; one man scrolled through a document on his glasses, the other puffed absentmindedly on an unfiltered cigarette and stared into space. A small red light came on above the door – someone, somewhere else in the building, had unlocked it. The man with the glasses walked in first while the second took one final drag of the cigarette and stubbed it out into an ashtray, leaving it with several more of its’ burnt-out brothers.
Kyle heard a muffled click and sensed motion behind the light. All of a sudden, respite. Someone had turned the light off. He breathed a sigh of relief, something he probably wouldn’t have done had he known what was about to happen. He saw two men. One had a thick head of brown hair cut high and tight. He carried himself like a military man. One skill necessary to Kyle’s profession was the ability to quickly read people, a skill Kyle had honed to an edge sharper than any blade. Even through the fog of the drugs pumping through his system Kyle could feel that this man was someone to be afraid of. His eyes were hidden behind mirrored sunglasses, but his square, heavy-set jaw, barrel chest, and sledgehammer fists were enough to convince Kyle not to make him angry. The second man was much harder to read, however. Pale and lean, he seemed to walk without thought. His shaven head, hooked nose, and gaunt facial structure gave him the appearance of a bird of prey, yet his motions belied any semblance of grace. He did not look directly at Kyle but instead seemed to stare off into space. Kyle could not directly see his eyes. The two men walked behind him, out of sight. A neck brace prevented him from turning his head all the way around to see what the men were doing. A few lifetimes passed before one of them spoke.
“Do you know where you are?”
Kyle couldn’t see the speaker, but he could tell it was Barrel Chest that spoke. He mustered up all of his wits and replied “No, but I’d like a lawyer. And I’d like my phone call. Now.” The last thing he expected was the booming laugh that echoed through the tiny room. Kyle knew from the pitch of the sound that it had to have come from Barrel Chest.
Barrel Chest walked around and stood a few feet in front of Kyle, chuckling to himself. “Well, I have good news, and I have bad news. Which do you want to hear first?”
“I don’t care,” Washington announced, defiant.
“Then we’ll start with the good news. The good news is that you won’t need a lawyer,” Barrel Chest announced. He paused for emphasis. “The bad news is that you won’t need a lawyer.” He lumbered around to where Washington could see him and chuckled at the confused look in Kyle’s eyes. “As far as the world knows, you’ve been arrested after a lengthy investigation and are being charged with domestic terrorism charges. The proof is irrefutable. You will never see the light of day ag-“
“That’s impossible. I am not a terrorist,” Kyle interrupted. The anger and fear were palpable in his voice, coursing through each word like an electrical current. Again, Barrel Chest released a booming laugh.
“You think I don’t know that? And for future reference, I strongly dislike it when people interrupt me. That’s something you should remember. You’re probably wondering where you are – don’t worry about it. It’s irrelevant. As far as you should be concerned, the three of us-“ he pointed at himself, then Kyle, then the unidentified man lounging in the corner, “are the only humans who still exist. This room is now your world. Everything you say will be used against you… until you say what I want you to say.” He paused and arched an eyebrow at Kyle, signaling that Kyle could speak.
“And what’s that, if I may ask?”
“That you’re a terrorist, obviously. I’d think a man of your intelligence would’ve figured that out by now.” He chuckled again, amused by his own words. “Before you ask: no, you will not be leaving this room. Well, you might. In a bag.” He chuckled again. “You will live until someone tells me that you’re no longer useful, at which point I will push this button-“ he points at a small blue button on the medical equipment hooked to Kyle’s body “- and your world will go dark. Don’t worry, it won’t be painful. That part, at least. As for what happens until then, I will make no such guarantee.” Upon the completion of his sentence, the door clicked again. A small light on the door frame turned green and the two men exited the room as quickly as they had come, leaving Kyle to wonder what the hell was happening to him.
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