Okay, here. Because I'm very appreciative of everyone's support, here's a preview of Book III. It's the
only preview I'm going to give, too. The rest of the book is going to be epic; I don't want to spoil it. Correia, forgive me!
************
Blackness turned to light as my eyes slowly opened. I couldn't see anything except light, and I felt groggy. I couldn't remember what I had been doing last. Trying to gather my thoughts, I focused on the light and tried to remember.
Where am I? The beginnings of panic silently gnawed at me as I desperately tried to remember.
Why can't I see anything? My eyes refused to focus. The light had turned pale blue, but I could make out no details.
From somewhere in the distance, I thought I could hear people speaking. It sounded muffled and faint, though, as if I were listening through a wall.
Is someone there? God, please help me. I can't move. I can't see. I'm scared.
Before the panic could overtake me entirely, I felt a dull pain in my right shoulder. At least, I thought it was my right shoulder. It felt like something had poked me, but I couldn't be sure. Try as I might, I couldn't seem to move, nor could I get my eyes to open.
Am I dead? Am I in Hell? Strange thoughts rattled around in my sluggish mind as I desperately tried to remember something, anything besides the here and now. I don't know how long had passed, but the dull pain in my arm suddenly became sharp, and burning. My heart began to pound, faster and faster, harder and harder. It felt like blood was rushing to my head, and suddenly my eyes snapped open.
The blue was my own lap. I was wearing blue sweats and white tennis shoes with no laces. I tilted my head back and, eyes squinting in blinding fluorescent light, took in a deep, gasping breath.
My eyes began to focus, but things were still blurry.
Where are my glasses? I lowered my head and realized that I wasn't alone after all. Two scowling men in black fatigues flanked a tall, thin, pale woman who sat cross-legged in a chair directly in front of me. I realized that I was either tied or handcuffed to a chair, and that my legs were tied together. A polygraph machine was attached to my right arm, and the needle was scratching away, the sound audible over the incessant buzz of fluorescent lights.
"Welcome back, Mr. Valentine," she said coldly.
"Dr. Silvers," I croaked, memories flooding back into my mind. Dr.
Olivia Silvers. Psychologist. Interrogator.
Bitch. "Why am I tied to a chair? Did I miss something fun?" She rolled her eyes at my pathetic attempt at defiant humor.
"We're going to have another chat, Mr. Valentine."
"I told you yesterday, I don't know anything else."
"Yesterday?"
"Yeah, yesterday. When we did this last time."
"Mr. Valentine, that wasn't yesterday. That was over a week ago."
"What?" She smiled. Her smile was as cold as ice, and her pale blue eyes were hard.
"Yes…I'm afraid that you've got some considerable gaps in your memory, Mr. Valentine.
"What…" My mouth fell open. "What the **** are you people
doing to me? I told you I don't know anything! I DON'T KNOW!" The needle on the polygraph flailed wildly as I yelled.
"What am
I doing to
you, Mr. Valentine? You're doing this to yourself. Honestly, there's no reason for it. You're not accomplishing anything. You're not protecting anyone. All you're doing is making things harder for
you."
"Look," I said, trying to keep calm, "I only know what was on the flash drive that Hunter gave me. I don't know anything else."
"I wish I could believe that, Mr. Valentine, but you've already told us a great deal more under chemical influence. You really need to stop lying to me."
"I don't know what you're talking about!" I said, unable to hide the desperation in my voice. "The only other thing he told me was some woman's name!"
"So he
did tell you other things then? Did you not just tell me that you didn't know anything else?"
"I already told you the name! Her name is Evangeline! I don't know…"
"Mr. Valentine," she said icily, cutting me off, "you're lying to me again. You know what happens when you tell lies."
"I'M NOT LYING!" She ignored me.
"Mr. Smoot?" she said. The man to her right, Smoot, nodded at her, then looked at me, grinning. He pulled an aluminum side-handle baton off of his belt, and raised it in his gloved hand. He swung sideways, hitting me in the stomach, and causing the chair to slide backwards and nearly tip over.
Pain shot through me, and I doubled over. They had my arms handcuffed behind the chair so tightly that my arms were nearly dislocated, though; I couldn't move.
"WAIT!" I wheezed, but Smoot ignored me and struck me again. If I'd had any food in my stomach, I would've thrown up.
"I'm going to ask you again," Dr. Silvers said, brushing a wayward strand of silver-blonde hair out of her face. "What is Project BLUE? What is the Alpha Point?"
"I DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS!" I screamed.
"Stop lying to me, Mr. Valentine," she said, looking bored. "You've already told us about Evangeline. You've already told us that other DEAD SIX personnel made it out of Saradia. I'm not about to believe that with everything Colonel Hunter divulged to you that he made no mention of BLUE."
"I DON'T KNOW! I DON'T KNOW!" I screamed again, voice raspy. God damn it. I didn't know how long I'd been there. I tried so hard to keep quiet, to not tell them anything, but they used drugs on me. I didn't remember any of it, but I knew that I'd been telling them things and then forgetting when they used the drugs on me. I knew they'd been keeping me sedated as well. I didn't know what 'Blue' was, nor what the 'Alpha Point' meant.
Why won't she believe me?
Dr. Silvers and her compatriots had subjected me to all manner of interrogation techniques. The drugs she kept shooting me up with affected my memory so badly that I could barely recall, but I knew that I'd been beaten, shocked, left out in the cold, deprived of sleep, deprived of food, and mauled by a German Shepherd. I was skinny, pale, weak, and shaking.
Smoot put his baton away and removed his taser. I cringed, knowing what was coming next. Pain, incredible pain, shot through me and he touched the prongs to my neck. I tried to scream, but my jaw was clenched shut. Blood, snot, and spit gurgled out of my mouth and my nose, and tears streamed down my face. I could feel my bladder let go, but I was so dehydrated that I didn't have any urine to piss myself with. He held the taser on my neck for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, he withdrew it, and I gasped again, coughing, desperately trying to breathe.
Before I could catch my breath, a gleaming combat boot impacted me in the chest. Smoot's kick sent the chair flying over backwards, and pain shot through me again as my head hit the concrete floor and my bound hands were smashed under the weight of my own body.
I just laid there, no longer possessed of the will to move.
The Calm no longer came. They'd broken me. I'd told them everything I knew, and they still wouldn't believe me. They were going to keep torturing me until I died.
"That's enough, Smoot," I heard Dr. Silvers say. "Reilly, sedate him again. Tomorrow we'll start getting the sensory deprivation tank set up."
"Do you really think he knows anything else?" I heard one of the men ask, as I started to drift out of consciousness.
"Probably not," she replied. "But we've gone through all this trouble, we might as well be sure."
I felt another sharp prick in my shoulder as despair overtook me again. I began to fade away. Tears welled up in my eyes again.
God, please let me die…