Just a taste….
“Train to Anguish”
By: S.E.Isaac
***more hardcore part of the novel***
“Armistice, come with me,” War Councilman Tibbot said.
“Yes, sir.” I stood and gathered my things. I followed him out of the room and down the hall in silence. He took me to the simulator. I hadn’t been in a simulator before. I had only heard rumors as to what it was, but everyone who spoke of it said it was excruciating. It was like being tortured mentally.
“You know what this is?”
“Vaguely, sir.” He nodded his head and faced me.
“This machine simulates being tortured. We will give you a piece of information and then test to see how long you can withstand keeping this information from the machine.” My heart began to pound. I glanced in the window at the machine. It seemed like just a plain white chair that was cushioned and in a recline position, but now I knew that it was so much more. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.” He handed me an envelope and I opened it. Inside was ‘Mission Bravo execute at 2200 hrs.’ I put the paper back in the envelope and gave it to War Councilman Tibbot.
“Understand?”
“Yes, sir.” He opened the door and took my belongings from me.
“Good luck,” he said with a smirk. I said nothing more. I walked through the door and he shut it behind me. I walked further into the room towards the chair. I was terrified of what this machine would do to me. I could easily run out of the room, but then what? Where would I go? My father would not let me return home and the Lynxian would shun me for running away from their beloved Academy.
I took a deep breath and sat in the chair. Slowly I leaned back and positioned myself comfortably in the chair. The lights turned off and my heart was once again racing. I heard a hum on both sides of my head and a blue light pulsed from dim to bright. Was this the torture everyone spoke of?
I heard a door open, the shuffling of feet. Something heavy was pulled into the room, and then the door slammed again. Right then the lights in the room came back on. Across from me was a tall pale man with a bald head and a beard. It was unusual to see a man with facial hair. He was standing in front of a table that had a variety of weapons and tools laid out. In his right hand was a gun.
“What information were you told?”
“Nothing,” I said. He smirked and opened the door. He bent down, picked up a white puppy, and closed the door softly. I always had a weakness for animals.
“What information were you given?” He said again, more sternly now.
“Nothing.” He shot the puppy and blood splattered. “No!” He laughed as he dropped the puppy to the ground. He set the gun down. I tried to jump out of the chair and attack him, but I was strapped down. “You are sick!”
“So, I’ve been told,” he grabbed a knife. “What information were you given?”
“Nothing,” I screamed at him. He opened the door and an elderly man was standing there. “No. No. No.” I knew what would happen next if I did not give the information. I couldn’t let another life end. A tear slipped down my face.
“What information were you given?” The elderly man looked at me with pleading eyes.
“Nothing,” I whispered as the man sliced the elderly man’s throat and his limp body slumped to the ground. I tried to turn my head from the scene, but it wouldn’t move. I watched as the blood gushed from the elderly man’s throat and he fell to the ground on top of the puppy’s corpse. I could feel cool spots on my arm where his blood had landed.
“What information were you given?” He asked setting the knife down and grabbing a hacking tool.
“Nothing.” My voice was no longer recognizable. It was hushed and ragged, terror coursing through it. My mind seemed to be straining against my skull at the thought of what could possibly come next. He opened the door and a priest was ushered in. I shook my head. “No. Please.”
“What information were you given?” I shook my head, as tears poured down my face.
“Tell him, child.” The man of the cloth pleaded softly.
“I can’t. I’m so sorry,” I said with my eyes closed. My eyes opened.
“What information were you given,” the torturer asked, his voice becoming eerily quiet.
“Nothing.” He lifted his arm as high as it could go and slammed it down on the clergyman. The man screamed out in pain as his arm fell to the ground.
“What information were you given,” the torturer shouted.
“Nothing!” He began hacking away at the man in cloth. I didn’t bother closing my eyes. I knew it wouldn’t change anything. Finally, the torturer was done and the priest was laid on top of the puppy and elderly man.
“Shall we continue?”
“Just kill me already,” I spat. He quickly looked at me.
“What did you just say?”
“Just kill me already! I’m not telling you shit!”
“No, you are going to do it.” He grabbed the gun and walked over to me. “You are going to end your life.”
“No!” I said. Suicide was against the Nevan belief. Suicide was a damnation of the soul.
“Do it or I will continue.” He adjusted the straps to where my elbow was bent and hand up towards my head. He placed the gun in my hand. I once again tried to move it but it wouldn’t budge. The door opened and a girl no older than three was standing there. “Do it, and I shall spare her.”
“I can’t.” Tears were streaking down my face. He laughed.
“Because of the Nevan belief of the dishonor in suicide.”
“Yes,” I whispered. He strode toward the little girl. “Wait!” He turned towards me. “Do you give your word?” His eye brow rose.
“Do I give my word?”
“That you will not harm the child.”
“I give my word.” The door closed and opened again. The little girl was no longer standing there. “Should I call her back?” He said with a grin. I closed my eyes and pulled the trigger.
