Brink

Chapter 6: Ships

Chapter 6

John

06-11-2022

3 days after Chapter 1

John woke up, slowly. His eyes ached horribly as he tried to open them. He slowly came back to senses, and started to feel the strain on his biceps and triceps. A bucket of freezing cold water was splashed over his head.

'Oh, fuck!'

A wet layer of water remained on his skin. He was shirtless. He only saw silhouettes and shapes, because a bright light shined in his face. He kept his eyes aimed downwards, to make sure he wasn't blinded. A fan was switched. The cold wind caught onto John's wet skin. The man shivered all over. His arms were chained to two hooks and were held up high, stretching his muscles. John tried to remember what happened. It started to come back to him. The explosions and the flash of light. The gigantic airships which descended. Where was he now? Was he on one of those? Was this the SRCF, or was it something else? That last question was answered when a man behind John spoke with a strong Russian accent.

'You must be hungry. You haven't eaten in 17 hours.'

John did not answer. The first rule of something like this is to never speak. That is what he kept in mind. He was bloody hungry though, and his entire upper body hurt, inside and outside.

'John Farsworth. No family. Went to boarding school. Left home at 17. Tell me, is there anyone who would miss you if you die here?'

What the fuck? They knew so much about him. Sure, he had had his ID in his pocket when it all happened, but to know that from someone only by looking up their name was insane. There was more behind this. The Russian man came to John's front. He squatted down to John's level. His body blocked the bright light, and John looked up. The man was surprisingly young for his deep voice. Only in his twenties. He had a smooth spotless face, short blond hair and blue eyes, which glared into his.

'Is there anyone at all? A reason for me not to cut your throat?'

John looked the man in his bright, gleaming blue eyes. After more than ten seconds of staring at each other in complete silence, a slight smile appeared on the man's face.

'You're good, John. You're smart. I think there is an understanding between us. I think we both understand, that the only reason you are still alive, is because of your silence. You know, I have actually not heard your voice yet. I am curious as to what it sounds like.'

The Russian came back up from his squat and patted John painfully hard on his bare shoulder.

'If I don't find out what your voice sounds like by talking to you, there's plenty of other ways.'

John's strength faded. He woke up at the buzzing and crackling of electricity. As he opened his eyes and tried to move a little, a jolt of the tool of torture burned through his back. He groaned in pain and all of his muscles tightened. The metal chains clinked softly.

'What was that? Want to say something?'

John kept his mouth shut in the next few seconds. There was no response from the man either. John did not know when to expect anything, and another jolt fried through the skin between his shoulders.