Going Underground

by Denison, L. N

  Parker forced Jen towards the floor fixed restraints and began to fit them to her ankles. Jen looked up towards the chain that would eventually be attached to her wrist restraints again. She could only imagine what would happen from then on. One thing was for certain: she felt she would not be leaving that room alive.

  *

  With Jen where he wanted her, Besson began to circle around her like a vulture. Without a word, he took hold of the pulley handle and turned it hard and fast. Jen could feel the chain getting tighter over her head, and the feeling of her shoulders separating slightly. Besson stopped turning and locked the pulley, wanting to revel in Jen’s pain yet again.

  ‘Apart from inflicting pain, watching you suffer has to be my favourite pastime!’ he sneered as he walked around Jen’s outstretched body.

  Jen wasn’t going to make it easy for him. She knew the bastard was just toying with her, testing her limits. In the meantime, she decided to have some fun with him.

  ‘Is that all you got, doc?’ she said, smirking.

  ‘No indeed, my pet. I assure you I’m just getting warmed up!’

  Besson pranced over to the pulley to release the mechanism and turn the wheel a further three times. Jen’s feet lifted off the floor, and she immediately felt the chains pulling on her ankles, stretching her body like a child’s rubber toy. She couldn’t help but cry out, as the pain grew too much for her to bear.

  ‘Hurts, does it?’ Besson mocked. ‘I want you to feel your muscles and tendons stretched to the max! I want you to hear and feel your very bones crack and splinter!’

  Jen forced back the tears in defiance. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of an easy victory. She was better than that, and better than him.

  ‘I’ve got all night—not so sure about you, though!’ Besson cackled menacingly.

  ‘Why are you doing this to me?’ Jen cried.

  Besson walked around to face her and grabbed her waist tightly.

  ‘Your mother is my motive—selfish bitch!’

  Jen was visibly puzzled. Why does he have a vendetta against my mother? Even Parker appeared bemused, and both waited for an explanation.

  ‘What does my mother have to do with this? She’s dead and buried!’ Jen screamed angrily, fighting past the pain.

  ‘I know—I put her there! She threatened to expose me, she had to go, and I used her reputation against her!’ Besson confessed.

  ‘Why would you do that?’ Jen hissed.

  ‘She was going to announce the fact that I had a non-pure blood child with her,’ continued Besson, bringing his face close to hers. ‘Had she done what I had asked and had you aborted in the first place, none of this would be happening!’

  It all made sense to Jen now. He had known who she was since her arrival at the camp. He had access to her records. Jen looked on Besson’s face and saw the faint but unmistakable physical similarities they shared. There were even some red strands in his tousled mop of grey hair. There was no escaping the damnable truth: he was her father.

  ‘Don’t look at me like that! Your mother was a whore, and as far as I am concerned, you are of the same mould!’

  Parker now understood why Besson had permanently branded the word ‘WHORE’ on Jen’s lower back, and why he was intent on trying to kill her by his own hand and not that of the executioner. The fact that she was a member of the infamous Independent Mind had no bearing on the situation. His desire to rid himself of his mistake was what drove him to insidious extremes.

  Jen couldn’t find the words to describe her anger and disappointment. In a fair and just world it would be Besson, and not she who was about to suffer a slow and painful death. If, by some miracle, she managed to break her bonds, she would kill the gloating bastard where he stood. She would tear his black, still beating heart from his chest and shove it in his face before he collapsed to the ground like the pile of shit that he was.

  Parker didn’t know quite where to put himself. The revelation had him reeling, not that it was any of his business, really, but he couldn’t help but feel for Jen that little bit more. He had seen the present look in Besson’s eye only once before, and it hadn’t boded well for his victim then. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Jen would fare no better—in fact, she would come off a lot worse. He knew what was in store. This was only the beginning of her torment, and there was nothing that he could do about it. He rued the fact he was too weak to be of any use to Jen. All he could do was stand back and watch as Besson played his wicked game.

  *

  Gerick continued to keep the security cameras busy while he waited for Myron to come back to the office with his team. The scientist concentrated on the problem at hand: devising ways of spiriting Myron and his friends through his office without alerting the guards watching over him. He wasn’t sure exactly when Myron would return, but he hoped it would be soon.

  Gerick had earlier had the misfortune of sharing another coffee break with Besson, who had bragged about his nefarious doings without referring to his two captives by name. Gerick had gleaned from Myron that they were an integral part of The Independent Mind, the radical group he had secretly aided. He already knew how to direct Myron to the room where Jen was being interrogated.

  Gerick tried to find out what shape Myron’s colleagues were currently in so he’d know what to expect when he found them.

  ‘So, how’s it going with your captives?’ he asked Besson conversationally over coffee.

  ‘I’m on the verge of breaking the spirit of the impudent bitch I’ve been interrogating,’ Besson chortled. ‘She survived the branding, and now she’s undergoing my special form of chiropractic, as it were. When I’m through with her, there won’t be anything worth burying.’

  ‘Oh, that’s nice,’ Gerick replied noncommittally. ‘She must have some significance for you to be showing her such special interest. What about the other one? Any special torture planned for him, too?’

  ‘Why so curious all of a sudden, Meyer?’

  ‘I’m not curious, Besson. Just making conversation. And since the only thing you ever want to talk about is torture —’

  ‘Anyone ever tell you, Meyer, that you’re a boring goddamn geek?’ Besson had said before stalking off.

  Now back in his office, Gerick looked up at his clock every now and then. His fears grew with every passing minute. He couldn’t show any emotions, as the cameras would pick up on them, and give the guards a reason to come down on him hard.

  *

  ‘We are nearly there—just a few yards to go,’ Myron relayed to his carefully selected crew, which included Lonny Campbell. He thought muscle might be needed, and this hulking man-mountain was the obvious choice.

  ‘When we get to his office, Gerick will give us the directions we need to get Oscar and Jen out. Brace yourselves, because what we find may be hard to stomach.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Lonny inquired.

  ‘Jen and Oscar have been interrogated brutally, and may not even be recognisable. Gerick told me how the torture technicians work and I’m not holding out much hope for their survival if we don’t get moving. No more questions!’

  Without further hesitation, the group made their way towards the grate which, preceded by a meter of ductwork, led to Gerick’s office.

  Myron pulled a flashlight from his pocket and rattled it across the grate. ‘This will draw Gerick’s attention!’ he murmured.

  A little snigger came from behind as he clanged away. Myron stopped and turned sharply to face the culprit.

  ‘What are you sniggering for, Ivan?’ he demanded in exasperation.

  ‘Well! It seems to me that you want the whole place to know that we’re here,’ Ivan replied, adding sarcastically, ‘I suppose you’ve never heard of an echo, eh?’

  ‘Keep it up, and you can go back—is that clear?’ Myron replied with quiet anger. ‘For your information, this is the grate I exited from in Gerick’s rear office, not the one in his main office. No one will hear it but him! So sh
ut your gob and get ready!’

  Ivan swallowed his pride and kept his mouth shut.

  Upon hearing the dull tapping in the background, Gerick stopped what he was doing momentarily and walked away from the gaze of the cameras. A grim smile appeared on his face as he walked out of sight and into the back office. Slowly and gently, he pulled off the grate and grabbed hold of Myron’s hand.

  ‘You need to hurry! I don’t think your female colleague will last too much longer,’ Gerick said urgently as he pulled him up.

  ‘How do you know?’ Myron inquired.

  Gerick sighed deeply and said, ‘I have been told as much by the interrogator, who gleefully confided in me about the sadistic torture he has subjected her to. I couldn’t tell you before, because I didn’t know just how deadly his methods were,’ Gerick explained. ‘As for your other colleague, he has been taken to the infirmary, where he has remained for the past two days. The interrogator hasn’t shown much interest in him —’ Gerick was stopped firmly in his tracks.

  ‘Her name is Jen, and the male colleague you refer to is Oscar!’ Myron interrupted bluntly.

  Gerick’s eyes lit up. ‘Did you say Oscar? Do you mean Oscar Saracen?’

  Myron grew wary. ‘How do you know him?’ he asked suspiciously.

  Gerick paused. Would Myron believe what he had to say? Or should he just wing it? He thought long and hard before answering.

  ‘Who do you think has been supplying The Independent Mind with the information for the newsletter?’ said Gerick, his voice shaking from panic. ‘I risked everything to help you, and now it turns out it could all be for nothing. If anyone finds out it was me who fuelled the propaganda, my life won’t be worth living.’

  ‘So, you’re the mysterious friend that Oscar wouldn’t tell anyone about?’ Myron replied. ‘We’re in your debt, good sir! If it hadn’t been for you, The Independent Mind wouldn’t have lasted as long as it has.’

  ‘Well, if you don’t go and rescue your colleagues now, it will all have been for nothing! Rest assured, Jen will be broken down and made to talk!’

  ‘You’d better tell us where we need to go then, hadn’t you?’ Myron pressed.

  Gerick took them further into his laboratory, into what appeared to be a junk room. There was a door towards the back which nobody used, and which the cameras weren’t trained on. It was partially blocked by an old table, and other furniture.

  ‘You’d best move this junk out of the way!’ Gerick said. ‘I have to go back to my office before the guards wonder where I’ve got to—can’t have them coming down here, can we?’

  Myron was still none the wiser about where they had to go after the surplus furniture had been moved. He hoped that Gerick would come back with information he required, otherwise he was going to have to think about Plan B: going in with guns blazing and jeopardising all their lives for the sake of two colleagues—but these weren’t just any two colleagues: it was Jen and Oscar, and he cared deeply about both of them, despite their many faults and idiosyncrasies. He’d be damned if he’d let them become just another statistic.

  Gerick reached across his desk for his note pad to scribble down the directions to the medical wing. As far as the guards were concerned, he was writing the formulae for the next cloning experiments. That done, Gerick made his way back towards Myron and the other Mind operatives.

  ‘Here, follow these to the letter!’ said Gerick, giving Myron the directions. ‘May God be with you!’ In a flash, he was gone.

  Myron studied the directions and said to his group, ‘According to this, we need to head out of the lab, follow the corridor to the end and then turn right. Then we need to take the second left to the interrogation rooms—the infirmary is further down that same corridor. Get your weapons ready, chaps, we’re going to need them!’

  The weapons consisted of pieces of wood in which they had affixed nails, glass, old razor blades, and anything sharp they could find. Lonny had invented the weapon, which he dubbed the Clone Cudgel.

  The molecular structure of the previous clone models was unsound. Lonny had discovered, quite by chance, that if you cut into the skin of a clone, it caused an immediate cellular breakdown. All that remained was a blue, gooey substance, and mounds of bodily hair.

  ‘Are you all ready?’ Myron cried. The five men brandished their weapons in reply. ‘All right, let’s do this!’

  Myron eased open the door apprehensively. He had to be sure that there were no obstacles or nasty surprises lurking in the corridor before he could let anyone go through. Much to his surprise, he found the coast was clear outside the unused exit. He quickly fed his operatives through.

  ‘Follow me!’ Myron ordered.

  The six men slunk through the corridor to its end, weapons held aloft. Myron ordered his operatives back against the wall on their approach to the turn on the right. Lonny took the shotgun position; the giant Scottish soldier had gained a reputation for being an expert clone killer. Lonny poked his head around the next corner.

  ‘Coast is clear, boss—do you wish to push forward?’ Lonny whispered, maintaining military decorum as always.

  ‘Roger that!’ Myron replied.

  Lonny began to move out from behind the wall, beckoning the others to follow. One by one, they crept with feline stealth down the second corridor. Distant screams came from one of the interrogation rooms—whether male or female, unknown. The closer they got, the louder and more gut-wrenching the screams became, and they were unmistakably female.

  Myron’s blood ran cold. It could only be Jen.

  *

  The pain in Jen’s shoulders and hips was beginning to take its toll; only screaming brought any relief. Besson revelled in her agony. He had achieved the desired result, breaking her down as he had intended—watching her transition from hard-headed, stubborn ‘won’t crack for anybody’ rebel, to a quivering wreck in front of his very eyes.

  Besson had pulled Jen’s limbs to the point of dislocation with his relentless turning of the pulley, and Jen prayed for a quick end to it all. She had physically and mentally given up. Parker wanted desperately to urge Besson to stop, but he was spineless and couldn’t face the repercussions. Jen would have to suffer a while longer.

  Besson reminded her again that she had been his mission since their first encounter in the labour camp, but his reflections fell on deaf ears. All Jen could think about was dying, and nothing else.

  Without a word, Besson left the interrogation room, giving Parker the opportunity to release Jen. Not knowing how long Besson would be away, he had to hurry. Parker dashed over to Jen’s stretched and barely conscious body. There was a problem: Besson had the only key to undo the ankle shackles, but he’d worry about that later. Parker released the pulley; the chain began to unravel far too quickly and before he could reach her, she fell to the floor with a piercing scream. Jen had sustained a dislocated shoulder at some point during the proceedings, and the force of her rough landing brought her to consciousness.

  ‘Where am I, what’s happening?’ she groaned, looking blearily into Parker’s face.

  Parker shushed her. ‘Quiet! I’m going to try and get you out of here!’

  *

  Myron and the others had made it to the interrogation corridor, which seemed to be surprisingly devoid of any security. Blood-chilling screams coming from one of the rooms greeted their arrival.

  ‘That was Jen, I know it was!’ Myron whispered urgently. ‘But which room is she in?’

  Lonny, standing beside him, pointed towards the third door on the left.

  Myron nodded. ‘Lonny, you and Ivan come with me. The rest of you, go find Oscar!’

  Clutching their Clone Cudgels in white-knuckled grips, Myron, Lonny, and Ivan approached the interrogation room.

  ‘Everybody ready?’ whispered Myron. ‘All right, Lonny, knock it down!’

  The hulking Scot threw his entire weight against the door. It nearly burst off its hinges and banged against the inner wall. Myron’s heart jumped to his
throat. Jen lay writhing on the floor in mortal agony, clutching her right arm, while Parker struggled to release her ankles from the shackles.

  Parker rose shakily to his feet and backed away from Jen. Myron could see he was trying to help Jen now, but guessed the man had earlier been complicit in her torture.

  Jen tried desperately to tell Myron that Parker meant her no harm, but her weak voice was little more than a whisper.

  ‘You, get over here now! I don’t want to have to use this!’ Myron yelled, waving his cudgel at Parker. ‘Where is Besson?’

  ‘I don’t know where he is, I promise you!’ Parker whimpered. ‘Please don’t kill me, I was only trying to get her out before he comes back! Please take me with you, he will kill me otherwise!’ he begged.

  ‘You are Besson’s assistant, I assume?’ said Myron.

  ‘Yes but I didn’t actually torture her, I only put on the restraints!’

  ‘Only? You deserve everything you get—I hope he does kill you!’ Myron replied scathingly.

  Jen became distressed at the thought of Parker paying for Besson’s demonic ways. She repeatedly tried to shout out to Myron to leave him alone, but her voice was still too weak.

  Lonny saw that Jen was attempting to gain Myron’s attention. He bent down and put his ear to her mouth, and listened as she whispered urgently to him.

  Lonny rose to his feet, walked back towards Myron, and tapped him on the shoulder from behind.

  Myron whirled around and snapped, ‘What do you want?’

  Lonny grabbed Myron’s shoulders in his outsized hands and gazed deeply into the angry eyes of the youth, who hoped he hadn’t pissed off the hulking Scot.

  ‘Jen wants you to leave this man alone,’ Lonny said, squeezing Myron’s shoulders tighter. ‘If you value Jen’s opinion at all, you will honour her request.’

  Myron stared blankly at him for a brief moment before answering, but it wasn’t the answer that Lonny was expecting.

  ‘I do value Jen’s opinion, but why should I spare him? He was as much a part of her torture as Besson was! He deserves everything he gets as far as I’m concerned!’