Darkness surrounded the still figures, each enclosed in a thinly veiled rectangular box. The cold felt like knives against their skin, perpetually picking at them until they could no longer bare it. One of the seven selected, Lloyd, jokingly chimed, "Let's get some heat in here; I'm dying." Waiting several moments for laughter that did not proceed, a burly, gruff voice boomed back, "I'd be careful if I were you. That is the soul purpose for your worthless heap of a body occupying my sacred station. Your day here is just beginning." Lloyd, his fragile figure visibly shaken, answered with silence.
Laughter now erupted from the center of the group spreading outwards, as several people needed a scape-goat to dump their ever-increasing frustration onto. "Silence!" the same voice once again screamed from the shadowy gloom. Only one lone figure did not flinch to the raspy but strong cry. That person, Matt, was deaf. His ears were obviously unlike others due to his repeated beatings as a boy. But, the officer present had already learned from his profile. Nevertheless, Matt still maintained his oratory abilities (although lacking he sometimes averred). Abruptly, the haze settling over the group's minds, trying to comprehend it all, retreated. The lights had finally flashed on, and each was amazed at what they saw.
Each enclosed "cage" has a small slit perpendicular to their face. They were small enough to prevent any possible escape, but there was enough room to see the muscular man approach the solitary podium at the head of the room. "It may be clear to some as to why you are where you are at this moment, and to others it may be unseen. However, there is one thing that we all have in common. We all have the knowledge that on July 15, 2008 the Super Tanker Caor Yen was targeted, fired at, and immobilized." A hand flew up, "or sunk," and it returned down. "It had the misfortune of carrying millions of soldiers- it was the largest of its 'breed'- and gallons of oil. Each one of you, (his point emphasized by a glare that penetrated to the soul), has a meaning for being here. One of you will eventually be tried, convicted, and... killed."
A blatantly obvious cry slowly rose up from the room, carefully meandering its way from corner to corner. The furthest cube from the left occupied by former Soviet sub commander General Hayes was where the vain pleas and protests originated. His small height, 5 foot 3 inches, did not hinder his abilities to articulate what was on all minds. "I did not commit this crime and I must plead innocent." "All matter, whether good or potentially bad, will be settled once our interrogation has begun," replied the head police officer attempting to avoid a potentially blight situation. There was a tense pause that may have been hours, even days, as boredom began to settle over the weary suspects.
At precisely 3:00 the following day, attempted conversations were soon made in order to do away with the awkward silence. Mutterings of, "Did you do it? Me? Of course not!" were heard throughout the next few hours. Just then, Mike, a hit man in his younger days, noticed something rather peculiar. Something nondescript to most; not anything too alluring. Next to him, or so he thought, a man with a slight lisp was carrying on a conversation with his neighbor. Dread twisted itself throughout his body like a snake with its prey. That person was one of his hired killings ( his first actually) one whom was supposed to be dead. It was his father.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The house was on fire or rather, the boat. The initial blast was over, and water had just begun to enclose the furthest bunks. "Turn off the alarm clock. Give me more time to sleep!" a bunkmate screamed, obviously affected and in shock from the peeling skin and missing legs. Stumbling into action, someone strapped on the holster of htheir gun and bravely attempted to rouse the sleeping men situated around. They all were dead. "Just sleeping," he vainly tried to reassure himself. The shrill cry of the alarm blared throughout the enclosure as if in a bombing raid was occuring. The loudspeaker miraculously crackled to life. " All soldiers, I repeat, all soldiers on the Caor Yen must be prepared to defend this ship from sinking or die trying."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The sun was shining brightly overhead, waves were lapping at his feet. The grass was not as green as it had been in his memory, as was the landscape. He could not pinpoint his exact location now, but it might be the sunshine state, Florida. A tall, cloaked figure slowly meandered its way towards him, softly chanting his name. "John, John, come back to me John." John groggily muttered phrases of threat at the looming shape now mere inches away. Stumbling up onto his feet, the deranged man staggered to the jagged jetty stretching out beyond all belief. The hood gently fell away, revealing its occupant. "It's good to see you again. I've missed you ever so much." Careening backwards, his mind spinning, John lost it. "You shouldn't be here! I left you, abandoned you, and forgot about you! I even destroyed all evidence about what you caused and I suffered for," he yelled. "I should have never gone along with it, never in my life. I almost died because you wanted to have some fun with explosives. Let us light the oil you said. Nothing will happen to this junk wreck of a ship you whispered. Light the match and it will all begin," he manically laughed. "But I said no to your devious schemegg'Ok then; I will' you stated as clear as day!" John cried. Crumpling up in a heap on the now cold and unforgiving earthen mound, John blacked out.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Calm down. Calm down. It is all right. You're back with us now." Panting and searching the room with his wild green eyes, matted hair flowing, John noticed his attire. His suit has become less scintillating than ever and his tie had been tossed across the room as if in a panicked frenzy. The landscape merged into a cubed box and a solitary person standing before him. "We thought we lost you there. That would have been such a shame. You haven't fulfilled your purpose yet."
Surprisingly, the locked and padded door swung open as if hit with a hard kick. The same officer, who gave the slide show before, was now shadowing John's body in his height. "If you hadn't passed out like that before, we could have been done with this degrading chore. Follow me or suffer the consequences."
From all over, protests were raised and heavy questions were asked. "He already served his purpose," Lloyd said. All agreed to this undeniable statement as each had heard the story unfold out loud. John tried to protest these reasons, but the other suspects would hear nothing of it. Although each knew that their time would eventually come, they realized that John's story had already been told, and that was enough reason for each of them. Understanding his situation, Robert, the police officer, acknowledged this and conceded to their reasoning. "In that case, may I call the next perpetrator to the stand?"
