“I TOLD YOU I DON’T KNOW!” How many times do I have to tell them? If I don’t know, I don’t know! I jerk against the burning the ropes already have caused against my raw skin. My back is aching from being strapped to a small wooden chair for what has been at least seven hours. I bite my tongue knowing that only more pain is coming. I see the fist and cringe. My head is ringing and my vision blurs.
“Don’t play stupid with me, pretty boy! You know what the heck happened and your gonna tell us, even if we have to force it out of you by the end of the night!” It was the tall, dirty, foul smelling one who spoke as he held his face inches to mine. I’ve pretty much deciphered him to be the secondhand man; the one who does all the threatening and smack talk, pretending to be the leader as he issues out who will make the next punch. I spit in his face and he doubles back growling.
“Give him another one!” The burliest one winds up his arm and delivers another blow. My whole body is rattled and I struggle to keep my cry of pain behind my trembling lips. Sweat is dripping down from my short, jet-black hair that I know must be mangled and crusted with dirt.
The quiet man who has been anxiously watching from a chair off to the side in the small room gets up and slowly walks towards me. This is the leader. I’ve been studying his movements for a while. The way he analyzes everything, not just from me but from his men as well. He must be the leader. He crouches down in front of me and gives a long sigh. He just sits there for a long moment, staring at the floor as if contemplating something very difficult. Finally, he straightens himself and paces in a semi-circular motion.
“Why don’t we start with the basics,” he said in a somewhat calm, and to my surprise a honorable voice. “What’s your name? Where exactly are you from?”
I hesitate, Should I make it up? No, he’s seen my hesitation. Might as well just tell him. “My name is Kris Eilun, I’m 24 and I live in Ontario.”
“Ontario? Son, there sure are a heck of a lot Ontarios in this hemisphere. Be specific.”
“Canada. Ontario, Canada.” One of the men cursed, another kicks at a rock and scratches his prickly chin. For a moment, I flash back to the beautiful house my fiance Tara and I just bought. Ah, Tara; she’s probably worried sick about me. I have to get out of here and call her to let her know I’m okay. “I’m just a simple guy, I wanna get back home to my fiance and I can’t see what any of you would want with me.” Apparently, that was funny.
“You really don’t know how you got here do you?” The leader crouches down next to me and speaks in an almost whisper, “That girl of yours, son, is dead, and you should be too.”
Blood drained from my face. “I don’t understand,” I managed to choke out. “What…what happened?”
“Well that’s what we’d like to know, but seems to me like we need to freshen your memory some. There was a big explosion here in Chaparral, New Mexico, a week and a half ago and wiped out a lot of people. You and a group of four others were caught runnin’ off wearing all black and fully armed. My crew here took out your gang within the next ten hours of the explosion with one exception,” he got close to my face, feeding from the immense anger building inside of me. “We were chasin’ you down some tracks when the oddest thing happened. You just disappeared into thin air. A few days, later one of our buddies found you at his station on the Mexico border. And here you are.” He stood and started pacing again. “Now, I’m gonna ask you one more time,” he stops and grips the chair right next to my shoulders, “Where. Is. The. File?”
I smile and look up into his face. I give a small chuckle and spit at him. The next thing I see is the cold stone floor and then blackness.
Kelly P. Vickers can be reached at