Fic: Staring at the Sun, part 13/?
Hello! I'm stuck in my novel writing so I thought I'd post the next part of the story. Part 14 probably won't arrive until December, but for now, enjoy...
WARNING: this part contains graphic violence. Please don't read if you think this will offend you or scar you for life.
Staring at the Sun
by amonitrate
13. Twist
Screams. Screams. High pitched, full throated, teeth-rattling screams. Didn't sound like Sonny, but Rico hadn't seen sign of anyone else kept prisoner here, so who else could it be? The screams were muffled by the wall but he was pretty sure they were coming from the next room. Every so often the sound would choke off and blessed silence would fall for a few minutes. Sometimes ear-splitting music - heavy metal or rap, mostly - would drown out the screaming, but it wasn't a relief. Rico could still hear the screams, in his head. And the music would go on and on, the same track over and over, until it shut off and the screams started again.
When they came for him he was almost grateful for the change.
His wrists were bleeding - he'd pulled on the cuffs without realizing it, trying to get free even though he knew it was pointless. They forced him to his feet and punched him when he couldn't keep his balance, punched him until he followed their clipped, one-word orders. Black cloth over his eyes again, hands behind his back. The sounds shifted and echoed around him and he heard another door slam. Low voices. Ragged breathing, edged with a sound of pain, not quite a moan.
"Sonny?" That outburst gained him a fat lip. The blindfold was torn away and he blinked. Nothing made sense for a long moment. Blurs of light and dark resolved into another windowless room. Baldy and M16 conferred with another man Rico hadn't seen before. To his right Sonny hung limp from a hook in the ceiling, his hands tied behind his back and his shoulders twisted from the strain of supporting his body weight. God. How was the position even possible? Sonny's left shoulder was swollen and deformed. Dislocated. His head lolled forward, chin to chest, his sweat-damp hair stuck to his forehead and obscuring his eyes. He hadn't reacted to the sound of his name.
Baldy broke away from the trio of men and stepped forward. "You move and he dies." M16 smiled and patted his ever-present weapon. Baldy crossed to where Sonny hung near the cinder block wall and picked up a heavy looking hose. The blast of water hit Sonny in the face and his head came up in a drunken roll. Baldy moved the water cannon lower, the force of the water shoving Sonny's body back a foot, twisting him around. He groaned at the strain on his shoulders, but he didn't seem too aware.
"Why are you doing this?" Rico demanded, his own voice hoarse and barely recognizable. "You get off on this? Is that it?"
The faceless man who had dragged him from his cell yanked back on Rico's bound hands. A white-hot agony bloomed on the junction of his neck and right shoulder and he smelled scorched flesh. Jesus. No talking. He got it. They kept giving Sonny the worst of it and he didn't know why. The choice didn't seem personal. More like a strategic decision. Didn't make any sense. None of it made any sense.
Baldy dropped the hose and rummaged in a metal box. Came up with a set of wires. He laughed when Rico started to panic. "Whattsa matter? Surely you've seen this in the movies?" As a matter of fact, he hadn't, but then he guessed he wasn't into the same kind of entertainment as Baldy. This wasn't gonna happen. This wasn't happening.
Baldy turned away, back toward Sonny again. Dios te salve, Maria, llena eres de gracia... When Rico tried to close his eyes the chainsmoker behind him pushed his lit cig into Rico's skin a few inches below the first burn. Santa Maria, Madre de Dios...
All business now, Baldy attached the leads to Sonny's skin, one to his left earlobe and the other to his balls. The prayer evaporated, leaving his mind empty and cringing. Baldy fiddled with something and there was a hum and then Sonny's body bucked, back arching, tendons standing out in his neck. Rico started forward automatically, heedless of the others in the room. Baldy ignored him but M16 took two steps forward and aimed his big gun at Sonny's thrashing form. The dude behind him jerked on Rico's arms and his vision greyed out as a third burn joined the others.
Baldy must have upped the voltage, because Sonny shrieked, incoherent, his tied ankles kicking out. Would it help or hurt his partner to know he was here, watching? God. He was gonna kill these fuckers. Maybe the voltage was too much, or maybe they'd just pushed Sonny too far, 'cause after about twenty minutes of screaming Sonny went silent and rigid, his body wracked with convulsions. He was choking.
"Goddamn it! You're gonna kill him!" Rico didn't feel the hands on him anymore. All he knew was that his partner was dangling from the ceiling like a side of meat, seizing like a junkie on tainted smack. The man standing next to M16 barked an order at Baldy, who backed off with a sullen frown. Sonny kept on shaking even after the juice was cut. Rico was on the floor, ears ringing. He didn't remember getting hit.
The third man stepped forward. He had a stethoscope around his neck. A fucking medic. How kind. He waited until Sonny had calmed down to a quiver before checking him out, real professional like. "That's it for today."
Baldy just stood there, the control to the electrical device still in his hand.
"That's it," the medic snapped. "Cut him down."
Mystery man dragged Rico upright, nearly popping his wrist in the process. The blindfold went back around his eyes. He thought he might have fought, might have screamed his partner's name, but he couldn't be sure. Next thing he knew he was back on the cold concrete floor of the first room, the one with the window set near the ceiling. He was on his side again. Staring at the grey brick wall. Staring. He blinked. No blindfold. Rico sat up too quick, had to brace himself with one hand so he didn't hit the deck again. He looked down. His hands were free. When the hell had that happened?
The barred window above his head let in a trickle of light. Daylight. How many days had it been? Something behind him, a movement, a scrape of sound. Rico turned and for a moment he could see nothing but the outlines of the light from the window.
Madre de Dios. His partner lay in a heap near the door, like the goons had opened the cell and tossed him inside. Sonny's eyes were open, but he wasn't looking at Rico. Rico wasn't sure he was looking at anything. "Sonny? Jesus, Sonny-" Sonny blinked, his face expressionless.
Rico decided not to risk standing, and the room wasn't that big, so he crawled on hands and knees to his partner. Sonny's eyes didn't track the movement. Had that last shock fried his brain? Rico felt like someone had reached down his throat and was trying to pull his stomach out of his mouth. "Sonny, man, comeon." He lifted a shaking hand. Sonny was lying mostly on his side. Rico ended up touching his bare hip, not wanting to jar his shoulder. Sonny flinched, but it was a weak, automatic reaction.
While he had the light and the freedom, Rico checked his partner over. There was a fresh, dry bandage on his leg, already spotted with blood. Black and green bruises spanned his chest and wrapped around to his lower back. Maybe a broken rib or two. A constellation of angry red circles between his shoulder blades, matches to Rico's trio of cigarette burns. Despite the chill Sonny's skin felt hot and dry under his hand.
"Dammit, Pulaski, getcher fuckin dog offa me." The words were so slurred Rico almost couldn't make them out. Not that they made any sense to him when he played them back through his mind, unless they'd threatened him with Cujo too. He sat back and waited for more, but Sonny lapsed into silence.
"Who's Pulaski?"
Sonny shuddered. Tried to roll onto his back, only that roused his twisted shoulder and dragged out a grunt of pain. "Why're you asking 'bout Pulaski? Pulaski's dead, pal. Been dead for years." Sonny's eyes narrowed and he turned his head back towards Rico, squinting up at him. "Who the hell are you?"
A cold thrill ran down Rico's back. "It's Rico, man. Comeon, Sonny, stick with me here."
Sonny's eyes closed and he seemed to deflate. "Jesus, Rico. I can't see a goddamn thing."
Rico let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "It's okay. Just lie still, partner. They really did a number on you in there."
"Like hell it's okay," Sonny grumbled. "Before they poked and prodded at me they shined a fucking spotlight in my eyes for a double shift. Haven't been able to see more than shapes since."
Rico crouched down, tried to get a look at Sonny's eyes. They were watering, but seemed okay. "It'll come back. Just keep 'em closed."
"Yeah. Least I don't hafta stare at your naked ass anymore." Sonny shuddered again. There were deep lines framing his mouth and radiating from the corners of his eyes. His cheeks were hollow and he was grey under the remnants of his tan. Rico shoved down his worry and the lingering nausea from his own injuries. "Aw, you're just jealous. Fine ass like mine. You know you'll never match it."
His partner let out a gasp, but it wasn't laughter. The lines in his face tightened. "We gotta get outta here, Rico."
"I know, man. I know."
As if the wish had been granted, the door to the cell swung open. M16 poked his head into the doorway, checked their positions and then stepped aside. A new player waltzed in, hands on his hips, sporting a big grin. "Well, hello there, boys. Nice to see you again."
Rico straightened. Sonny had been right all along. They'd been had by a real pro. And chances were this wasn't about them at all.
Fucking hell.
tbc...
WARNING: this part contains graphic violence. Please don't read if you think this will offend you or scar you for life.
Staring at the Sun
by amonitrate
13. Twist
Screams. Screams. High pitched, full throated, teeth-rattling screams. Didn't sound like Sonny, but Rico hadn't seen sign of anyone else kept prisoner here, so who else could it be? The screams were muffled by the wall but he was pretty sure they were coming from the next room. Every so often the sound would choke off and blessed silence would fall for a few minutes. Sometimes ear-splitting music - heavy metal or rap, mostly - would drown out the screaming, but it wasn't a relief. Rico could still hear the screams, in his head. And the music would go on and on, the same track over and over, until it shut off and the screams started again.
When they came for him he was almost grateful for the change.
His wrists were bleeding - he'd pulled on the cuffs without realizing it, trying to get free even though he knew it was pointless. They forced him to his feet and punched him when he couldn't keep his balance, punched him until he followed their clipped, one-word orders. Black cloth over his eyes again, hands behind his back. The sounds shifted and echoed around him and he heard another door slam. Low voices. Ragged breathing, edged with a sound of pain, not quite a moan.
"Sonny?" That outburst gained him a fat lip. The blindfold was torn away and he blinked. Nothing made sense for a long moment. Blurs of light and dark resolved into another windowless room. Baldy and M16 conferred with another man Rico hadn't seen before. To his right Sonny hung limp from a hook in the ceiling, his hands tied behind his back and his shoulders twisted from the strain of supporting his body weight. God. How was the position even possible? Sonny's left shoulder was swollen and deformed. Dislocated. His head lolled forward, chin to chest, his sweat-damp hair stuck to his forehead and obscuring his eyes. He hadn't reacted to the sound of his name.
Baldy broke away from the trio of men and stepped forward. "You move and he dies." M16 smiled and patted his ever-present weapon. Baldy crossed to where Sonny hung near the cinder block wall and picked up a heavy looking hose. The blast of water hit Sonny in the face and his head came up in a drunken roll. Baldy moved the water cannon lower, the force of the water shoving Sonny's body back a foot, twisting him around. He groaned at the strain on his shoulders, but he didn't seem too aware.
"Why are you doing this?" Rico demanded, his own voice hoarse and barely recognizable. "You get off on this? Is that it?"
The faceless man who had dragged him from his cell yanked back on Rico's bound hands. A white-hot agony bloomed on the junction of his neck and right shoulder and he smelled scorched flesh. Jesus. No talking. He got it. They kept giving Sonny the worst of it and he didn't know why. The choice didn't seem personal. More like a strategic decision. Didn't make any sense. None of it made any sense.
Baldy dropped the hose and rummaged in a metal box. Came up with a set of wires. He laughed when Rico started to panic. "Whattsa matter? Surely you've seen this in the movies?" As a matter of fact, he hadn't, but then he guessed he wasn't into the same kind of entertainment as Baldy. This wasn't gonna happen. This wasn't happening.
Baldy turned away, back toward Sonny again. Dios te salve, Maria, llena eres de gracia... When Rico tried to close his eyes the chainsmoker behind him pushed his lit cig into Rico's skin a few inches below the first burn. Santa Maria, Madre de Dios...
All business now, Baldy attached the leads to Sonny's skin, one to his left earlobe and the other to his balls. The prayer evaporated, leaving his mind empty and cringing. Baldy fiddled with something and there was a hum and then Sonny's body bucked, back arching, tendons standing out in his neck. Rico started forward automatically, heedless of the others in the room. Baldy ignored him but M16 took two steps forward and aimed his big gun at Sonny's thrashing form. The dude behind him jerked on Rico's arms and his vision greyed out as a third burn joined the others.
Baldy must have upped the voltage, because Sonny shrieked, incoherent, his tied ankles kicking out. Would it help or hurt his partner to know he was here, watching? God. He was gonna kill these fuckers. Maybe the voltage was too much, or maybe they'd just pushed Sonny too far, 'cause after about twenty minutes of screaming Sonny went silent and rigid, his body wracked with convulsions. He was choking.
"Goddamn it! You're gonna kill him!" Rico didn't feel the hands on him anymore. All he knew was that his partner was dangling from the ceiling like a side of meat, seizing like a junkie on tainted smack. The man standing next to M16 barked an order at Baldy, who backed off with a sullen frown. Sonny kept on shaking even after the juice was cut. Rico was on the floor, ears ringing. He didn't remember getting hit.
The third man stepped forward. He had a stethoscope around his neck. A fucking medic. How kind. He waited until Sonny had calmed down to a quiver before checking him out, real professional like. "That's it for today."
Baldy just stood there, the control to the electrical device still in his hand.
"That's it," the medic snapped. "Cut him down."
Mystery man dragged Rico upright, nearly popping his wrist in the process. The blindfold went back around his eyes. He thought he might have fought, might have screamed his partner's name, but he couldn't be sure. Next thing he knew he was back on the cold concrete floor of the first room, the one with the window set near the ceiling. He was on his side again. Staring at the grey brick wall. Staring. He blinked. No blindfold. Rico sat up too quick, had to brace himself with one hand so he didn't hit the deck again. He looked down. His hands were free. When the hell had that happened?
The barred window above his head let in a trickle of light. Daylight. How many days had it been? Something behind him, a movement, a scrape of sound. Rico turned and for a moment he could see nothing but the outlines of the light from the window.
Madre de Dios. His partner lay in a heap near the door, like the goons had opened the cell and tossed him inside. Sonny's eyes were open, but he wasn't looking at Rico. Rico wasn't sure he was looking at anything. "Sonny? Jesus, Sonny-" Sonny blinked, his face expressionless.
Rico decided not to risk standing, and the room wasn't that big, so he crawled on hands and knees to his partner. Sonny's eyes didn't track the movement. Had that last shock fried his brain? Rico felt like someone had reached down his throat and was trying to pull his stomach out of his mouth. "Sonny, man, comeon." He lifted a shaking hand. Sonny was lying mostly on his side. Rico ended up touching his bare hip, not wanting to jar his shoulder. Sonny flinched, but it was a weak, automatic reaction.
While he had the light and the freedom, Rico checked his partner over. There was a fresh, dry bandage on his leg, already spotted with blood. Black and green bruises spanned his chest and wrapped around to his lower back. Maybe a broken rib or two. A constellation of angry red circles between his shoulder blades, matches to Rico's trio of cigarette burns. Despite the chill Sonny's skin felt hot and dry under his hand.
"Dammit, Pulaski, getcher fuckin dog offa me." The words were so slurred Rico almost couldn't make them out. Not that they made any sense to him when he played them back through his mind, unless they'd threatened him with Cujo too. He sat back and waited for more, but Sonny lapsed into silence.
"Who's Pulaski?"
Sonny shuddered. Tried to roll onto his back, only that roused his twisted shoulder and dragged out a grunt of pain. "Why're you asking 'bout Pulaski? Pulaski's dead, pal. Been dead for years." Sonny's eyes narrowed and he turned his head back towards Rico, squinting up at him. "Who the hell are you?"
A cold thrill ran down Rico's back. "It's Rico, man. Comeon, Sonny, stick with me here."
Sonny's eyes closed and he seemed to deflate. "Jesus, Rico. I can't see a goddamn thing."
Rico let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "It's okay. Just lie still, partner. They really did a number on you in there."
"Like hell it's okay," Sonny grumbled. "Before they poked and prodded at me they shined a fucking spotlight in my eyes for a double shift. Haven't been able to see more than shapes since."
Rico crouched down, tried to get a look at Sonny's eyes. They were watering, but seemed okay. "It'll come back. Just keep 'em closed."
"Yeah. Least I don't hafta stare at your naked ass anymore." Sonny shuddered again. There were deep lines framing his mouth and radiating from the corners of his eyes. His cheeks were hollow and he was grey under the remnants of his tan. Rico shoved down his worry and the lingering nausea from his own injuries. "Aw, you're just jealous. Fine ass like mine. You know you'll never match it."
His partner let out a gasp, but it wasn't laughter. The lines in his face tightened. "We gotta get outta here, Rico."
"I know, man. I know."
As if the wish had been granted, the door to the cell swung open. M16 poked his head into the doorway, checked their positions and then stepped aside. A new player waltzed in, hands on his hips, sporting a big grin. "Well, hello there, boys. Nice to see you again."
Rico straightened. Sonny had been right all along. They'd been had by a real pro. And chances were this wasn't about them at all.
Fucking hell.
tbc...