The Samaritan Cometh
Part 11: Stains
By Brian Lewis a.k.a Red Vector
The Samaritan: Russell Shoals Facility
The simple act of bathing oneself was a near sexual experience after three months of
being hosed down like an animal at the zoo. As the scalding hot water cascades over
my body, I look down and see the blood washing down the shower drain. I’m transfixed
as it swirls around the drain until it disappears from view. If only the stains on my soul
could be washed away as easily.
I step out of the shower and into the employee locker room and start rifling through
the lockers to find some clothes that fit me. Luckily, they hire a lot of guys who shop in
the big and tall section at Walmart. So I soon find pair of black BDU pants, boots,
gloves, black t-shirt, and a black leather duster. I even find a pair of jeans and toss
them into a black duffle bag. Wearing clothes again feels more than a little strange
against my skin and a bit confining. But it’s a sensation that quickly passes as I look at
myself in the mirror.
“Back in black.” I say to my reflection as I slide my hands over my bald head and gather
up my duffel bag.
Leaving the locker room I ignore the shattered, shot, and mangled corpses that litter
the hallways. Pools of blood make the footing slick and treacherous in some spots, and
sticky in others. Depending, of course on how fresh they are. Along the way I notice
the walls, and ceiling are riddled with bullet holes and decorated with bloody
fragments of human tissue. The other passageways throughout the facility are in a
similar state of carnage. All of it wrought by my hand. They fought back of course, with
their small contingent of storm troopers and guards; in the end it didn’t do them any
good.
As soon as I gained access to the facility’s computers I cut the phone lines to keep
them from calling for help; the next step was shutting down the elevators to the
surface and locking down the stairwell doors. With all avenues of escape cut off there
was nothing left for them to do but die. And die they did, all except one. The others
were an appetizer, his pain and suffering I will savor like a steak dinner served with a
fine wine; topped off by a sinfully decadent dessert.
When I reach my former cell, I open the door and find Harland cowering in the corner.
He’s rocking back and forth like a little boy who’s just awakened from a particularly
terrifying nightmare. The smell of urine, sweat and fear is overpowering to my
sensitive nose. When I walk over to where he’s sitting and kneel down, he starts
whimpering and crying. I suppress the urge to just stomp him to death, like the
cockroach that he is.
“Silly rabbit, did you think I had forgotten about you?” I grab his hair and force him to
meet my eyes.
“I had to grab a bite to eat from your well stocked cafeteria and get cleaned up before
our little reunion. But it wouldn’t be very nice of me not to allow you to get cleaned up
as well. Would it? Unfortunately, however I seemed to have used up all the hot water,
so you’ll just have to make do with…The Tank.”
At the mention of it his eyes widen and he starts to squirm in my grip and his words
come as anguished sobs.
“Pl-pl-pl-please d-d-d-don’t p-p-p-put m-! “ His sobs grating on my nerves; I put my
hand over his mouth stifling them.
“Save your breath round boy, you’re going to need it…glub…glub…glub.”
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“Get your ass in there.” I scream at him as I open the door to the Tank Room and shove
him through the opening. With his hands tied behind his back he stumbles forward and
lands naked face down on the concrete on floor. When his bare flesh strikes the floor
it makes a smacking sound that echoes through the vast cavern like room. The middle
of which is dominated by the monstrous twelve by twelve foot glass and steel thing
that gives the room its name.
I kneel down and haul him to his knees forcing him to look at it from a different
perspective. The look of horror was priceless as he tries to scream around the gag in
his mouth. The first time I saw it, it looked like something out of a B-grade horror
movie. But the realities of it were a thousand times worse than any movie, because it
was all too real. And out of all the things that they did to me this is the thing that nearly
broke me.
“Kind of looks different when you know you’re about to go for a swim in it doesn’t?” I
whisper in his ear. I get him to his feet and half walk him and half drag him across the
room and slam him against the glass; the surface condensation on it making it slick and
wet.
“Feel how cold the glass is against your skin? If the glass is that cold you can imagine
how cold the water is, as cold as it was the first time you and Ortega put me in this
fucking thing. I want you to feel what I felt that first time and ever other time after that. I
want you to feel your lungs about to explode from lack of air as you sink to the bottom
of the tank. I want you to feel the choking agony of your lungs filling with the frigid
water when you can no longer suppress the need to breathe. But I won’t stop there;
when you die I’ll use the resuscitation equipment and bring you back each and every
time. Just to start all over again. Like you did to me and god knows how many others.”
I release him and he slides down the glass to his knees as I walk over to the vertical
control panel. With a joystick I activate the ceiling track mounted winch system; he
flinches at the loud clanking noise of the motor engaging. I push the button that lowers
the weighted harness into position. A harness that resembles that which is used by
divers but where the air tank would be mounted there’s an articulated metal plate. On
this plate is where the cable is attached on a swivel mount. I untie his hands and
secure him to the harness with straps that fasten from the back making removal from
the front impossible. At this time is when I remove the gag from his mouth.
“Please d-d-don’t d-d-do this I’ll t-t-t-tell y-y-you any-t-t-thing.”
“You think this is an interrogation? No dipstick this is recreation. Besides I got all the
information I needed from the computer in your office.”
I push the button that starts to hoist him up off the floor. Soon he’s well above my head
and I use the joystick to position him about six feet above the water. During the entire
operation he’s kicking, screaming and clawing at the straps on the harness.
“Let’s say I start you off at fifty five degrees” On the control panel I turn the dial to the
desired temperature. Within a few minutes the read out flashes indicating that the
water’s desired temperature has been reached.
With the water the temperature I wanted, I slowly lower him into the tank. As soon as
the water hits his package that’s when the screaming changes to ragged gasps. When
the water reaches his neck he starts thrashing violently trying to work against the
weight of the harness dragging him under. Just before his head goes under he takes a
breath as he sinks to the bottom. His struggles become frenzied to get loose but the
cold water saps his strength. Eventually a stream of bubbles expels from his mouth
and he starts to convulse.
“Déjà vu all over again.” I hit the reverse and hoist him up and out of the tank. When I
get him back down to floor level I turn him upside down. With gravity draining the
water out of his lungs, he starts coughing violently and vomits the water he swallowed.
I level him to an upright position by grabbing a hand full his hair; looking into his
swollen bloodshot eyes. “Very good, I didn’t have to resuscitate you this time. I’ll let
you get warmed up a bit before we begin again.”