Frank Klus - Azaleas Don't Bloom Here

Eugene had no breakfast, so he was given an extra-large meal, and was allowed about a half hour to consume it. He was brought back to the interrogation chair, and strapped in it—feet and arms. Sistrunk spent the whole time at the computer desk printing something out, and then studying the results.

Eugene heard footsteps coming down the steps again, and then Sistrunk spoke up.

“Ahh, Peter, good, good; right on time.” A man Eugene saw at the metal table or gurney earlier, entered. He was more of a boy than a man; not older than twenty. He looked like he might be a soldier because of his lean and muscular build. He marched right over to the desk the stenographer used—he was gone now. Sistrunk came over and shook his hand, and then showed him something. “Peter, here is his chart.”

Peter studied it a while, and then carried it over to Eugene. Alisha then came from the back room carrying a marker. She handed it to Peter, who began drawing on Eugene’s naked scalp.

Eugene flinched. “What are you doing?”

“Please don’t move a muscle,” Peter said. “This is very sensitive work. I am attempting to sketch all the different parts of your brain on your head.”

The drawing went on for about an hour. Eugene could feel the marking pen all over his scalp. Peter would draw some, and then stop to examine the paper; then he would continue. The act of drawing on Eugene’s head caused him to flinch repeatedly, always drawing a rebuke.

“Please stop moving around,” Peter said.

“Sorry.”

“Hold still,” Hurd said.

“I’m trying.”

“Eugene, if you flinch again I will have to put you in a head restraint,” Sistrunk said, “and I promise you it will be most uncomfortable.”

When Peter finished, Sistrunk reached into the cabinet—still unlocked—and pulled out the scary tubular thing with the wires. The tube was about the size of a cigar. Sistrunk undid the wiring and hooked it to the computer. Peter attached the object to something above Eugene, and then sat down behind the desk, operating the laptop. He periodically glanced at the monitor that was suspended from the ceiling, and then pushed some more buttons.

Sistrunk gave Eugene an evil smile as he reached up to the pointy object and started to lower it over Eugene’s skull. “This is the probare cerebrum or brain probe. It is used to begin your treatment, Eugene.”

Eugene felt his pulse quicken as he arched his head and glared at the strange object.

“Everything up until now was prep work for your treatment. It was important to understand how your mind works—you think too much about things that don’t really matter, Eugene.” He stopped to observe him; and then flashed his evil smile. “You see the pointy side of the probare cerebrum?”

Eugene looked up and gulped. “This is the acus,” pointing to the needle. “It uses an electromagnetic charge that can sever some synaptic nerve transmissions, and create new ones. I’m afraid it produces an irritating sensation.

“This wire mesh links the probe to a computer on the desk, and creates a mental image of your brain on the monitor over there. Shall we begin?”

Eugene was scared, but he tried not to show it.

“There is some discomfort when we begin the treatment. It may feel like I’m penetrating the skull, but the acus doesn’t actually touch the skin.”

Sistrunk, still smiling, grabbed Eugene’s head, pushing it level. Then Alisha put a head restraint over Eugene and attached it to the chair. Eugene couldn’t move his head.

Sistrunk now lowered the acus just above the skull, and pushed a button on the probe. It made a humming noise and a jabbing feeling as if it were going right through his cranium. “Please doctor, that hurts.”

Then Sistrunk began wiggling it, and occasionally dragging it across his scalp. The humming noise changed pitch as Sistrunk dragged it across his cranium. At once, Eugene felt a vicious headache. He felt like there was a cat inside his head trying to scratch his way out. He let out a high-pitched scream, and Frankenstein raised the probe.

“Oh, you make such a fuss; such a racket.” He then repeated the procedure. The headache came back, worse than before. Again, Eugene screamed. The session seemed to last several minutes. When it was over Eugene thought his head was going to explode.

“That wasn’t too bad now, was it?” Eugene hurt so much he couldn’t open his mouth.

“I understand, Eugene. Many people clench their jaws so hard during the procedure they find it difficult to open them. I assure you, Eugene, the pain is only in your mind. Ready for the next application?”

Alisha put a piece of rubber in Eugene’s mouth while Peter, operating the controls, made a slight change of one of the dials.

Gene was probed again. The pain was overwhelming. He made a muffled scream as tears streamed from his eyes. He began evacuating his bowels. He wanted to faint, but Alisha gave him an injection that kept him conscious. Throughout the procedure, Eugene shook violently and his eyes widened.

“That was a good one, Mr. Sulke. One more and I think we’ll finally start making progress.” Peter adjusted some controls again.

Once again, the probe was applied to the middle of his skull. This time the acus seemed to bore right through his head. Eugene let out a scream far worse than before. He felt his head exploding, but the doctor just smiled.

When he finished, the guard released Eugene; but when freed, Eugene came out swinging. He threw a haymaker at Hurd’s head. Hurd grabbed his head and ears, but Eugene just threw himself at him, screaming profusely. Hurd yelled for the other guard. Hurd tried to wrestle Eugene to the chair, but Eugene crouched down. Hurd then began beating him over the head, but Eugene leaped up and toward him, throwing punches with both fists. Finally, the other guard grabbed Eugene by the legs, and with Hurd holding his arms, they carried him to the gurney and strapped him on it. Then Hurd beat him with the soft truncheon.

Peter put the helmet and goggles back on him while Alisha gave him an injection that seemed to calm him down. After the helmet was reattached to the other device Hurd began to taunt him.

“You’re a real smart ass, aren’t you? Thought you could take me, didn’t you? Well, you aren’t so smart now, are you?” Hurd flashed a menacing look at Eugene. “You better start cooperating, smart ass! You haven’t experienced real punishment yet.”

“FUCK YOU!” Eugene yelled, as he spat at Hurd.

“Stop this nonsense, Mr. Sulke,” Sistrunk said.

“Resume your position, Mr. Hurd,” Sistrunk said with a disapproving look. Hurd went to parade rest, but he was still within striking distance of Eugene. Sistrunk turned his attention to his “patient”.

“Now, if one plus one is two, is that not an absolute truth?”

“FUCK YOU!”

“ANSWER THE FUCKING QUESTION,” Hurd demanded.

Alisha gave him another injection, and then Sistrunk repeated the question.

“Yes, you asshole.”

Hurd slapped him again.

“So there are absolute truths.”

Gene was silent.

“MR. SULKE, YOU MUST ANSWER THE QUESTION.”

Gene spat at the doctor, and got slapped two more times.

Chad Armstrong had spent much of the morning going over the plans Daniel cracked from the Squad’s private web site.

“What do ya think?” Ray said.

Chad looked worried. “Can we really be sure of the schedule?”

“What d’ya mean?”

“Is it a set schedule, or approximated? Does it stay the same from day-to-day or does it change? I don’t want to assume it stays the same. Assumptions get you killed.”