Terror. Helplessness. Blind-folded. Pain.
And then a pin-prick in his arm.
His throat let out a gurgling scream; primal in nature, almost inhuman.
“Whaddya want from me. I don’t know anything!” he screamed.
“Please,” said a calm, velvety voice, “You’re making a scene.”
“Who are you?” Dr. David Velmer asked, trying like hell to see through the black rag that covered his eyes.
“You may call me, Mr. Jeremy,” the man replied inoculating the doctor.
“What was that?”
“Something to ease the pain,” Velmer could hear a smile in those words.
“Where am I?”
“That is unimportant,” Mr. Jeremy replied simply. “What IS important is your loved ones, yes?”
“What about them? Where are they? Don’t hurt them; for God Sake don’t touch them,” spittle escaped his gaping maw as he wept openly.
“They are alive, I assure you. But tell me about “The Oracle”
“NO”
Another pin-prick. “What is that?”
“A shot that makes all your insides fall to pieces, and you’ll just sit there wishing you could still make love. You WILL talk,”
Euphoria.