Intercepts

by T.J. Payne

Her hands, never slowing, clawed at the flesh, tearing out large chunks of skin as she went. She ripped out bone and organ. Never pausing. Just burrowing.

She had a sudden twinge of a headache. It was an aching pain at first. The pain crept backwards, through her head, until she could feel the sharpness in the back of her neck. She reached back and massaged her shoulder muscles, momentarily wishing that one of the guys from school — Brian Holgate, perhaps — were here and she could flirt him into giving her a backrub.

The saliva in her mouth suddenly turned thick and creamy. It tasted of metal. Or was it blood? What was happening to her? Maybe she was dehydrated. When did she last drink water? She didn’t know. She couldn’t remember. Perhaps she hadn’t had anything to drink all day. With that thought in her mind, she suddenly desperately wanted a drink of water. She glanced over to the center console. No bottles there. Her dad might have some under his seat, but she didn’t want to ask. The dull ache sharpened into a knife of pain, stabbing behind both her eyes and at the base of her skull. A high-pitched tone then filled her ears. It was a constant whine, blocking out all other sounds.

Just as she was about to say something… Click. It all went away. The numbness, the ringing, the pain in her head. The weird sensations had flown through her and subsided as quickly as they had arrived.

“I had some water. But then a spider crawled onto my hand. It ripped a hole in my skin and burrowed inside. It crawled up to my wrist. I could see its little bulge moving around. I could feel it touching me. I almost grabbed one of the knives so that I could cut it out of my wrist. But then I realized that she probably wanted me to do that. So, I left the kitchen and sat back down on the couch and waited for the spider to go away. It crawled around, underneath my skin, for about an hour. Then it left.”

“Physical pain is fleeting. The mind closes it off, as best it can. But some pain runs deeper. Some pain lingers. It sticks to you in the darkness, and the mind cannot push it away. Pain such as the pain of watching your family suffer. And the pain of knowing they suffered because of you. That pain will never leave,” the voices said in unison. “Consider it not a punishment, but a gift. The pain will be your foundation as you swim in the black. It will be your light. Use it to find your way, Joe Gerhard.”

The voice, as wispy as a breeze through the trees, said, “Take the pills. Forget it all. Please, Riley.” It was her father. Of this she had no doubt. The voice filled her with a sense of love deeper and more real than any imaginary trick or horror.

Janet looked at the screen. “Let’s use Antenna 307,” she said. The control operator clicked around and a video-feed popped up of Antenna 307 — an Asian female.

He loaded up the profile of the supervisor from that facility. He really liked her. She was a spitfire. Incredibly sharp and resourceful. West Point grad. Best supervisor that Aguirre ever worked with. He missed her. He looked at her photo. Her long dark hair and strong face. She was dead now. Her name was Claire Thompson. But Aguirre actually admitted that the name “Bishop” suited her better.

As the work proceeded around him, Aguirre scrolled over to the profile picture of the supervisor of Site B — Joseph Allan Gerhard. Joe was a good guy. Friendly, professional. That is, before Joe bashed a computer into Aguirre’s head and tied him to a chair. Asshole. He wondered how ol’ Joe was doing these days. “Let’s use Antenna 301,” Aguirre said, looking up from his tablet.

It was a natural, relaxed smile. Not the sinister, twisted smiles that crept across the features of the other Antennas. This was a smile of contentment.