‘So much for I ‘m not going to knock you out John, I promise’ John says

Nathan smiles down at the man.

‘I know I’m sorry about that. It’s just if I did not do anything then it would look bad on me and blow my cover.’

John’s eyes widen

‘So you’re a cop! I knew it; you’re here to save us all!’

Nathan shakes his head

‘No I’m not a cop! I would appreciate it if you don’t blurt out shit like that seeing you’re going to get me killed, and then I can’t control what happens to you can I?’

John nods his head in agreement; a slight embarrassed look accompanies his apologetic smile.

‘Sorry sir.’

Nathan smiles

‘Call me Nathan. Look don’t worry, everything is going to be okay. I’ll get you out of here, I promise.’

‘How are you going to do that have you got any plans?’

‘I’ve always got a plan. Thankfully, I’m not the only one trying to help you and the people who work here. There is a heavy police presence surrounding the building. SWAT is here, and helicopters are flying above us. So there is no way any one is getting out of here without being shot or rescued.’

John puts on a brave face.

‘Shot or rescued it is then’

‘Don’t worry John I’ll get you out of here, you’ve just got to sit tight at the minute and wait for everything to be set in motion. In the meantime you need to tell me everything you could possibly know about this place and why everyone is being held hostage and why most importantly you are the only one being tortured.’

‘Like I said I don’t know. I’m just the janitor.’

Nathan pats John on the shoulder to comfort him.

The door to the torture room abruptly opens and the guard from the previous time comes rushing in, heavy framed and heavy footed. He slams the door behind him and turns to face Nathan who is caught unexpectedly standing over the bed in a casual manner. He hurtles towards Nathan with his fists clenched to his sides.

‘What the hell is going on here?’ the guard shouts

‘Nothing…’

Before Nathan can finish the man interrupts him

‘Exactly, you’re doing nothing. I set you a task and you’re standing here doing nothing. The prisoner is awake, did I not say to carry on the interrogation once he wakens?’

‘Yes you did, and I have been. He hasn’t given me anything useful. He says he is just the janitor. Maybe we have the wrong man.’

John remains spread out on the operating table. He starts to breathe in sporadically while trying to keep his nerve. The chains around his wrists have grated into his skin; the blood running down his arms from his wounds have turned a dark brownie colour abrasively scabbing over.

The guard smiles, his tense hands remain at his sides

‘We may have the wrong man indeed. But your opinion is not important here, you were given an order and you disobeyed.’

‘I did what you asked, I found nothing.’

The guard smiles once more. His yellow teeth are gleaming through his tight bloodless lips.

‘Well if that’s the truth then maybe you’re right, maybe we don’t need him anymore. If he hasn’t got anything useful to tell us then I don’t think we need him.’ Before Nathan can do anything and John could say anything, the guard walks up to the table where John is shackled and pulls out a hand gun, all of which seemed to be running in slow-motion for Nathan, as the guard raises his arm and places the barrel of the 9MM firmly on Johns head, as John’s eyes drifted back to face the guard looking down at him, the heavy set man fires the gun at point blank range into his forehead. The jolting action the weapon makes as the recoil springs the guards arm a few Milometers up from its shooting position is accompanied by a faint but vibrant muzzle flash that lights the dimly lit room, the light ricochets off the metallic surface of the bed and is soon replaced with an explosion of red that find its way out of John’s skull. Shades of his life are now plastered all over the floor just below his head that now hangs off the operating table.  Blood had sprayed all up the Guards arm and now drips off the guns barrel, as the guard turns to face Nathan who is wide eyed with shock, the slow-motion that had commenced earlier  had now abruptly hankered itself out and was replaced by the image of the guard’s fist landing square in the middle of Nathans face.

Thirty One

The year 2006 : SIX YEARS BEFORE BOARDING THE TRAIN

‘Okay class. Its two weeks before graduation so I thought we would just have a discussion about what everyone plans on doing after high school. Will you go to college or will you get a job? I want a serious class discussion! No innuendos or mentioning of illegal practises, let’s keep it clean and positive.’  Mrs Gardener said

The classroom is filled with around 30 students, all them have excitement peppered on their faces. Mrs Gardener stands at the front of the class in a short but classy dress; her legs are tanned, they are sporting some knee high black boots. She wore a white thrilled blouse that was buttoned up. Some would say she looked good for her age, being 39; she was still able to make 18 year old boy’s pay attention in class. Albeit they were most likely paying attention to her, and not at what she was saying.

Jason Bordello was sitting down at his desk at the back of the class, which was usually reserved for the troublemakers of the classroom. Mrs Gardener adhered to a strict code where she believed that the students are less likely to shout out obscenities of any nature from the back, out of the spotlight of the classes glaring eyes. She was under the impression that the boys in her class were disruptive because of one reason and one reason only. Her name was Stephanie Pollard. She was a cheerleader for the schools undergraduate football team. The Scorchers haven’t won a game in a while, but every boy in the school loved and worshiped that young lady. She was blonde and had a body that most MTV music videos would cast, and most Porn directors would hire. Stephanie knew her place in the world, well she knew where she believed she should be in the world, and that was right at the top.

Jason Bordello was not made to sit at the back with the delinquents; he chose to sit at the back of the classroom, it was his decision. That had always surprised Mrs Gardener, but she thought nothing of it seeing that Jason’s work was adequate for a pass grade and his domineer was quiet, both in the classroom and out of it. She never saw him as a troublemaker of such, more of a quiet rouge. She would always catch him looking at her with his deep steel cold blue eyes, she sometimes looked back, but it never manifested into anything more than that.

Today Mrs Gardener noticed the class were less enthusiastic about the task at hand. She could empathize with them, seeing it was nearing the end of semester. She thought of a way to energize the predominantly male classroom.

‘Okay class, I can see that most of you are tiered, but I’m telling you this will be a great way of marking down your futures. After all, graduation is around the corner and that can only mean one thing; you are all growing up! I’m sure some of you will end up going to college and others have made jobs waiting for them, I’m interested in hearing what everyone will be getting up to. This will be the last couple of weeks that many of you will see each other, it would be nice to know what our friends are going to get up to once we are no longer in their lives anymore.’

A student butts in

‘We’re not dying Mrs Gardner’

Mrs Gardner laughs

‘I know Trent. It’s just I’m going to miss all of you’

She starts to cry a little. Mrs Gardener makes sure to wipe the tears away so her classroom full of students don’t see her being emotional.

‘We are all dying’ Jason says quietly. His voice sending a chill down the room, all the way from the back of the classroom, he sat in his chair, slumped over his desk twiddling a pencil.