Pound of Flesh

The ropes dug into his wrists sending trickles of blood down his hands, then dripping to the floor from his finger tips. Through a haze of pain he was aware of others just beyond the glare of the light. Their voices asked questions to which he gave no answers.

“We just want to get together and talk.” they had said.

Then they had grabbed him and dragged him to this small stark room which they had prepared for the interrogation. He must have struggled as the taste of blood was in his mouth. But it would do them no good. He would never talk.

An arm moved into the circle of light. A hypodermic needle was poised above a vein in his arm.

“This will help you remember.” a kind voice said.

He felt the stab of the needle and then the burning sensation moving up his arm.

A voice, less kind said, “The next needle we use will indicate that you’ve won the game. If you convince us that you will not talk, we will have no reason to keep you alive.

He felt so relaxed. The voices droned on.

“You know what we want. Tell us. End all this suffering. We will find out anyway. We have a hundred men and computers digging into this. Tell us. Tell us.”

So relaxed. The pain is gone. Why not tell them? Only want to sleep. Want to see my family. Want to see sunshine and flowers and waves lapping at the beach.

The more kindly voice from the darkness said, “I think he’s ready. Get the recorder rolling. This one was tough.”

“All right, 1040, schedule C. Business trip to Antarctica -- never took. Went to Peoria. Met a woman.”

A calculator whirred in the darkness as it printed a tape.

“This is it. Elimination of the business expense plus interest and penalty. He owes the Government $29,583.48. Won’t they ever learn?”

Story ID:	1737
Written by:	Dick Dunlap (bio, contact, other stories)
Story type:	Fiction
Location:	Peoria USA
Year:	2007