the Pandora Dilemma. Chapter 9. Scene 1 quick post
“You remember when I wanted to be a cop?”
Dustin broke the boredom. It was heavy. It had been since he woke up. He was quick to accept the plastic prison he was in. He didn’t have a single issue with being in chains, behind bars and a sheet of clear cellophane. He couldn’t deal with the silence, though.
He watched Finley’s head bob up and down in a barely-there nod.
Great response, buddy. Way to make me feel comfortable.
Dustin went on.
“You and I were there taking the tests, running the laps, doing everything.”
Another nod. It was more than being tired, Dustin could see it. There was something bugging Finley. Of course, there was something bugging Dustin too.
Of course Dustin felt his problem was a little more urgent.
The first thing he thought when he woke up had been as close to ‘What the fuck?’ as his thoughts could muster. So much mumbling was going on. It was all in his own head. From the tracks on his arm he gathered that he could blame the sedatives for that.
He’d gotten over his lack of knowledge. Finley’s answers to the ‘duh’ questions had been as equally obvious.
I don’t know anything yet, Dusty. Just stay calm.
Fuck you and shutup so I can think about this horrible situation we’re in.
That’s what stay calm always meant.
Dustin stopped and slumped into his corner.
He tried to remember what had happened. There was the car crash, that was clear. After that, he’d tried to help some people out of the cars… maybe? No, it was coming back again. That cop was helping him out.
What had remained of his shitty car had turned into a shitty trap.
The thought ran through his head that it might actually get better mileage now. It made him smile for a second before natural train of thought took over.
Fin started talking first.
“Don’t ask me again, Dusty. I have no fucking clue what happened. Teams didn’t find another piece on the scene. You didn’t shoot George.”
“The cop that helped you out of your car. The one you thought got sniped, or, at least that’s what we could get from you screaming while you were out.”
“I didn’t kill him…”
“You didn’t shoot him.”
Dusty rolled his eyes.
“Goddammit, stop being so technical. Shoot, kill, it’s the same!”
Finley shook his head.
“No. Dusty, you killed him, you just didn’t shoot him.”
Something hit Dustin in the face and the groin at the same time. He stood up despite feeling like he’d been knocked down. He went to the bars. He came as close as he could to Fin. He saw him flinch. He let it loose with a bellow.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I don’t know.”
Finley stood, pressing a loose fist against the concrete wall. He looked like an elderly boxer in the body of a younger man. He began to sound older as he kept talking. His voice was catching, cutting itself on the barbed wire of hesitation.
“I don’t fucking know, Dust. I saw Sans, the guy you were shooting out with. He touched you and…”
Dustin’s volume was off the chart now. He had no knob to control it. That had broken off when he’d been told he was a murderer.
“And what? Fucking what, Fin? Don’t do that shit, don’t trail off! What the fuck happened to him?”
Finley breathed. Dustin saw it and was immediately envious. He wished he could do something so simple and relieving. Fin turned, hiding his face.
“His head exploded. It just… It just fucking exploded, Dusty, there’s no other way to explain it.”
“And how the fuck do you think I did it? What, I was behind him with a bicycle pump just press’in away?”
The only door breaking the monotony of the grey walled room opened. It creaked a bit but even after the small metal-on-metal noise eeked from the hinges there was something else holding Dustin’s attention.
It was a whisper.
Dusting couldn’t make out any words, he could barely hear Fin when he was speaking with his ‘inside voice’. The plastic kept most of the sound out. What he did notice was the voice was quick. It came with authority.
Finley turned to the dark slit cut into the stone. He nodded and the door closed.
“Dusty, I have to go for a second. I’ll be back.”
Dustin watched Finley leave, unsure of how he felt about it.
Posted on 04/19/2011, in Excerpts, Projects, the Pandora Dilemma and tagged aaron, death, errant, errant studios, fantasy, horror, life, literature, psychological, sci fi, shively, thriller, updates, writing. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.