Ch. 1
The light in his eyes was blinding hot. Sweat streaked down Wilhams’s face, and he could hear the shuffling of feet on a gritty floor behind him. He couldn’t be sure, but it felt as though he was in a dentist’s chair. Both arms and legs were bound to the chair, he could feel the chaffing around his wrists so much that he doubted it was sweat on his arm, but rather blood.
“Are you awake Mr. Nilsson? “Said a man, somewhere on Wilhams right side, with a very aristocratic tone.
Wilham was going to stay silent but thought maybe, just maybe, talking might get him out of whatever it is he’s in. “ I am” he replied “ and who might I have the pleasure of addressing ? “ information, that’s what he needed.
The unknown man let out a small throat clearing cough “Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves Mr. Nilsson. First I need to know, do you know where you are? “.
Wilham thought he almost sounded jubilees, like a kid with a secret. The truth was he didn’t have any clue where he was, or when for that matter, everything seemed foggy at best.
“Mr. Nilsson? Can you hear me?” whispered the man in his ear. The faint smell of whiskey caught in Wilham’s nose and he could feel the scruff of a beard on his neck.
Wilham searched his memory, trying ever harder to squeeze his eye tighter to block out the light. “I’m in New York, I think”.
The man moved back, and placed a hand on Wilham’s arm “Very good, I am Dr. Trovski, I will be administering this interrogation”.
Wilham’s mind began to race, right along with his heart rate, the light that had been blinding him went dark, as he tried to crane his neck to look around the sudden realization that not only were his arms and legs secured to a very thin recliner, chest, and knees… “Jesus Christ! What the fuck are you doing to me?”
“Now, Now Mr. Nilsson are we really going to do this again? “Said the doctor “You promised me you’d behave, shall I turn the sun back on? “More of the same joyous tone.
Wilham clamored “NO! No, I’ll calm down, just tell me what are you doing to me? Why am I here? “He felt desperate, and green blotches filled his vision even with that light off, he still couldn’t see.
Wilham wasn’t a small man by any means, perfectly bald head and an eagle globe and anchor tattoo on his right forearm. He had played high school and college football as a left tackle, and served in the Marine Corps as an Engineer for four years before he went DELTA.
He was 6’2”, 230 pounds of American muscle, he did his best to keep in pristine physical condition, and how’d this nut job get the drop on him? Must’ve drugged him, it was the only way he could see getting into this position, his mind was too cloudy to have just been knocked out, or drunk.
Quickly Wilham started working backwards, he remembered coming to Boston, and he was going to meet a man, a… a geneticist, a sample, of… something.
“Are you ready to begin Mr. Nilsson? “Asked Trovski.
Wilham replied “I’ll tell you anything you want to know, but could you at least undue the straps on my chest? I can’t breathe” he feigned exasperation hoping to ply a little sympathy outta this so called Doctor.
Trovski continue to smile, and said “I am very sorry for the restraints Mr. Nilsson. But last time I tried to make you comfortable you killed three of my men”.
Now Wilham was reeling, this can’t be, he thought, why couldn’t he remember anything?
“Let’s start with last month, you were driving near your home in New York, can you tell me about the night? “Said Dr. Nut-Job with more of that “mad doctor” tone.
Thing was is Wilham did remember now, just not everything. 5 weeks ago he had been a regular guy, working, living a boring little life, just the way he liked it. Until the discovery that is, he just couldn’t picture what that discovery was, like a picture behind frosted glass, everything thing about that particular subject was fuzzy, so he did the one thing he could do, he lied.
“Okay Doc, I’ll tell you, let’s see, it was May twentieth, Wednesday I think, I had just gotten off work….” he paused, he could now not only see his surroundings, but the man who had introduced himself as ‘Dr. Trovski’, sounded like Trah-ve-ski, but whom he thought of as “Dr. Nut- Job”.
There was a beige brick wall about 20 feet from where he now found himself arranged in the chair. It was just as tall as the distance he was away from it. Several rows of high set windows adorned the highest 5 feet or so to the ceiling, the glass rectangles were inlaid with wire mesh, and had been painted white from the outside. Several rows of lights hanging from long pipes, like alien eyeballs peering down from above.
Just to his left there were two steel bay doors that ran the length of the warehouse structure, and he noticed several shipping containers, and smaller con-ex boxes marring the longest wall behind his left shoulder, above his head.
“Please, continue Mr. Nilsson” the doctor said warily, eyeing his “patient” with a ‘don’t even think about it’ stair.
Wilham was now looking directly at the man who had him detained. A short bald man with thin lines of hair over each ear, a pair of oddly cliché round spectacles rested on his long pointed nose that , Wilham mused , didn’t quite look like it belonged to the person wearing it.
“Sorry Doc, “ he blurted “ I’m a little caught off guard here, maybe you can help me out” he put on his best pleading look , trying not to look too pathetic “ See doc, the thing is, I just woke up here, you got me tied down, I don’t know how I got here, or where here even is, and frankly it’s making me just the slightest bit cranky” Wilham’s eyes remained locked to the doctor’s, holding him in a dead lock gaze.
Dr. Trovski smiled “Mr. Nilsson, I like you, hence why I’m being so patient, tell me everything about that night” Trovski began fishing something out of his off-white lab coat.
“What night?” Wilham shouted. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about”
The doctor executed a small skip in Wilhams direction, a childlike gesture that made Wilhams’s stomach sink, and he crept close to his face “ I really, really, hoped you’d have come around by now “ and then Trovski set the tip of the syringe just under the marine’s right eye. All he could think was it seemed like just yesterday he was home, living a normal life, a regular job, now he was a play-thing for a nut-job doctor and he didn’t even know the answers the doctor was looking for.
**
Dawn was fast approaching the only traffic-light in town. Late again, all week she had been late to work. For the past three years she had been the post-master at the Clawson post office.
Clawson was a little hamlet situated at the foothills of the Catskill Mountains, est. 1803, Dawn would tell folks, and she had a wealth of knowledge about the town, as her father was the local museums historian for forty years.
Dawn Stevenson had buried he father a month ago, she checked herself in the rear-view. Laugh lines, puffy eyes, no make-up, and her once auburn hair now fading to a shade of rusty grey.
She looked like shit. She didn’t care.
Everyone in town knew her Dad had died, and they all knew she’d been hitting it hard down at the brock tavern ever since.
She pulled into the post office lot, her sole co-worker was there already, and from the dew on his truck, looked like he’d been there since before the sun came up.
As soon as Dawn opened the side entrance, marked postal employees only in big red letters, she was greeted by three carts of already sorted mail.
“Will? You here?”
Will’s big head popped around the corner “Morning“he nodded.
Dawn crossed her arms and shook her head, “How long you been here? “
Will shrugged “A few hours, I had trouble sleeping, don’t worry though I didn’t clock in till a half hour ago”
Dawn gave Wilham an over-zealous concerned mother look “And just how does trix feel about you taking off at four in the morning? Hmm?”
At the sound of her name the Labrador let out a small whimper, and Dawn gave Will the most cocked eye she could muster. “And what have I said about bringing her to work Will? One of these days…”
“I know ‘One of these days an inspectors gonna come in and you’ll lose your job” Will said mockingly.
Dawn walked past the carts, and Will, patted trix on the head, and said “You start loading the wagon, I’ll finish sorting”.
After two hours the sorting was done, Will was almost finished loading the mail truck, and trix was on her second nap of the morning.
As will started to push the last empty cart back through the mail ramp, someone called to him from behind the mail truck. A raspy woman’s voice, shaky and raw “You there! Hey!”
As Will turned he saw a woman dressed in tattered grey rags, and wild dark grey hair sticking out in all directions from underneath a blue head-band. Her eyes were perfectly round and wide, Will noted they were akin to her clothes and hair. By the looks of her she had to be in her late sixties, early seventies.
She jabbed a bony finger into the air in Wills direction “I know you! I saw you! Your gonna die, heh-ha-he”.
Will’s hackles rose up across his neck, and down his spine, something about the smallness, and frailness of this crazed looking lady, with her all-to-bony finger jutting straight out at him, screaming he was going to die.
Will had lived in this town for almost a decade, and he had never laid eyes on this lady, for a town of 1500 or so citizens that was unusual, especially since he worked in the only post office in 30 miles either way.
Will dug out a ten dollar bill out of his front pocket and extended it to the woman “Hey ma’am, you look like you could use a cup of coffee, on me, delicatessen is right around the corner”
Will took a large intentional step forward, and the woman lunged at him grabbing onto his shirt “DIDN’T YOU HEAR ME!? YOUR GONNA DIE, TODAY!” spit was flinging from her mouth dotting Wills face and neck. She had her small bony hands twined in the stomach portion of his shirt, up close she smelled of urine, and dirt.
Will grabbed hold of the woman’s wrist, he didn’t want to hurt her. As a force recon Marine, who went through vigorous hand to hand combat training and later on went on to work for DELTA, he could’ve easily snapped her meta-carpels.
As soon as Wills hands made contact with the woman, her grip went from frantic, to vice like. With the woman’s body in such close proximity and the fact that Will really didn’t want to have to hurt this old lady, he tried to pull himself free of her latch, as he did he stumbled backwards over the curb, and landed with a thwack on his head.
Dawn came rushing out of the mail room “Will, are you okay? Good god man, what’er’ya trying to do, kill yourself?” Dawn reached down to help Will off the sidewalk.
He shook his head vigorously, “This lady she wouldn’t let go…” looking up, Will realized the woman was gone.
Dawns bushy eyebrows squished together, “You knock yourself silly? Maybe I’ll do the mail run, you can stay and watch the counter” Dawn looked even more approvingly at her own decision after Will stood up and teetered for a moment.
“Dawn, I’m fine, really…” Will half-heartedly pleaded.
Dawn just shook her head and re-scrunched her eyes “You stay, I’ll get you an ice pack, and have Tammy from the deli come check on you in an hour or so” with that, Dawn marched off back into the post office.
Will stared into space, was he having a mental breakdown? After all, he had been diagnosed with PTSD after his ETS out of the service. Maybe he was having some kind of flashback, although he couldn’t recall ever meeting anyone like that lady, or maybe she just bolted, afraid she would be in trouble after he had fallen.
He tenderly rubbed the lump forming on the back of his skull, and returned to the mail room.
The rest of the day plotted along just as every other day had in the eight years he had worked in the Clawson post office. After the mail room and counter were locked up for the evening, Will made his way home. It was only a two mile drive, nine minutes if he went the speed limit, three if he didn’t.
The sun would be going down in an hour or so, early April was nice because the days were getting warmer, but the nights still had that winters chill. All the spring beauty and he couldn’t get that haggard old woman’s face out of his head.
She said he was going to die today, it just had felt so real. He had asked Dawn, to the point of annoyance, if she had ever seen anyone fitting that description, and her response hadn’t varied once
“I think I’d remember someone like that milling around, I have lived here over forty-five years you know”.
All the shit he’d been through, and this was how he was gonna go out? Death by hallucination. Will scoffed to himself as he pulled into his driveway. He lived in a modest one level ranch style house. His one and only love, trix, his chocolate Lab, was climbing her way over him before he even came to a full stop.
Will figured he’d go inside, have a beer, or ten, and shit- shower- shave, in that order, get some grub, and call this day over. Try again tomorrow, maybe when his brain wasn’t malfunctioning.
Will rarely ever used his front door, he preferred the side entrance, two full length glass French doors. They were custom ordered, triple safety glass with a Teflon bulletproofing.
He inserted his key into the lock, and found the deadbolt already unlatched. The only other person that had a key was his brother, who drove a good awful canary yellow Lincoln Navigator, pretty hard to miss.
He reached around his back and remembered that the US Postal service does not allow concealed carry by employees.
He could visualize his Colt 1911 in its holster, in a safety box, on his nightstand, on the other end of the house. Will wasn’t about the charge through the house, in case someone was inside, had to be, he had never forgotten to lock his door before. He almost steeled himself and went straight in, thinking that maybe he did forget to lock the door, and that shit with the old lady this morning, maybe his mind really was breaking down.
A low growl emerged deep from Trix’s throat, Will knew then this was no mental break, somebody was in his house, and that somebody was about to get a beat down.
Dropping down to a crouch Will slid off the porch and stayed below the window line skirting the house. He’d have to break his bedroom window, but the nightstand was right there, and once his colt was secured, he’d wrap around to the front door.
Upon reaching his bedroom window, he thought he saw someone ducking out of his bedroom and back to the front of the house. He crouched down and waited a beat.
Will hope the window was unlocked, pushing both palms against the glass reveled no such thing. He have to bust the glass, but that would also alert anyone inside to his whereabouts. He’d have to be quick. A brief visual inspection, the room was clear, his Colt just a foot away on the other side of the window.
Behind him twenty-five feet away, separating his yard from the wood line was a flagstone wall. He scrambled over and selected a football size triangular shaped rock, and stripped off his shirt. Will rolled his shirt into a tube, and placed it in the bottom corner of the window, in hope that it would dampen the sound.
He brought the rock back arm’s length above his head and struck the rolled shirt buffer as hard as he could. The initial sound wasn’t too loud, but the impact knock in most of the windows glass, and it shattered on his bedroom floor.
No waiting a blink, he secured his colt and relived it of the holster. He dropped the clip, and check his loads. Slammed it home and chambered a round. Taking tactical line form back to the front of the house, he heard something like a piece of wood cracking, and a dog half barking, half yelping.