Date | CB 1-Shots | View | Read the... |
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11/27/15 | Spirit-Man | (Blog) (Forum) | Disclaimer |
Rating | Rating explanation |
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T | Interrogation violence; human death; mild cursing. |
"Please... may I get something to eat?" asked the man, wearily.
"No!" shouted the commander. "Are you ready to tell us where you were going to meet the Christians at? Tell me that, and perhaps then you could have food."
The man sighed. "Very well," he said, and he closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the cinderblock wall.
The commander waited for a second, expecting the man to reveal the location. Realizing he instead meant to not eat, the commander became outraged, and slapped the man with a savage backhand, his ring bringing up a nasty welt on the man's face. The man said nothing, which only further enraged the commander. He kicked the leg of the chair out, tipping the chair to one side, and throwing the bound man on his face. Almost as soon as he hit the floor, the commander had grabbed him up by the collar. The commander stood straddled over the man, bent down in his face, and spit flying with his rage, vehemently demanded, "Tell me where they are, damn you! I will have this information, or I will have your head on a pole outside this compound!"
Badly bruised and swelling, the man's cheek began to look as if he had a wad of chewing tobacco the size of a tennis ball in his mouth, and it was forcing his left eye shut. Tilting his head to look at the commander with his right eye, the man answered, "Commander, unless my Father had willed it, you would not even have me, much less my head."
The commander let out a scream of outrage, and slapped the man again, cutting the welt open with his ring. The man spit blood onto the floor just before the commander gripped his jaw, jerking his head. "Where is your 'Father' now, Christian?" he shouted. "Perhaps you will escape? Is that what you think? Who will rescue you? Or do you think you can walk through walls?"
The man snickered through the commander's grip, the smallest spurt of blood escaping with his laugh. The commander looked at him in disbelief, his jaw tightening as his face turned red. The man looked at the commander from his right eye, and prayed, "Father, as the authority here has spoken it, so let it be." His wrists bound, the man swung upwards, breaking the commander's hold on his jaw. He then kicked the commander backwards, jumped to his feet, and bolted straight for the wall.
The commander drew his gun, his other hand clutching his stomach where the prisoner had kicked him. Bringing his gun up to fire, he muttered, "Fool." He fired as the man leapt for the wall. To his surprise, the man passed through the wall as if it were an open window, and the bullet kicked grit from the cinderblock.
The commander suddenly went weak in the knees, and stumbled backwards; not quite catching himself with his free hand, but scrambling backwards anyway. His gun remained pointed at the wall for another minute as he stared with a wild eyed look, his mouth moving as if it were trying to form words, but had forgotten how. He started shaking, and the sweat on his face suddenly seemed like too much for the cool cinderblock room. Slowly, he drew back his gun as if it were going to squirm away if he didn't hold on, until he was finally clutching it tightly to his chest. He continued to shake more and more violently, his mouth still trying to remember how to put words together, and his eyes fixed on the far wall. Suddenly, his whole body let out one terrible spasm, and his head kicked upwards as if he'd been punched. The commander reeled over backwards, and the gun clattered to the floor. The barrel was smoking, and the thunderous sound of the shot echoed off the walls.
Two guards came rushing in from down the hall, and stared in disbelief at the commander lying dead on the floor. They looked for the prisoner who had been in here with him, but found no sign of him. Between them, they agreed to tell their superiors that the prisoner had shot the commander, and escaped while they were interrogating another prisoner. That would mean roughing up another prisoner, but that was no problem if the prisoner had no tongue.
Please let me know what you think, and thanks! -cb | Originally written... 1994? |
Story and characters owned by Chris Bishop, copyright 1994?, 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021, 2022.
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