Voices
By Jason Halstead
Copyright 2011 Jason Halstead
Chapter 1
“One…two…three!”
“Wait!” I was mostly drowned out by the sound of my platoon opening fire. I couldn’t hesitate, but I wasn’t sure. “Who do I kill? Which one?”
“Every motherfucker coming up the hill!”
Any chance of deeper thought was shattered as the squad automatic weapon in my mentor’s hands opened up. I threw the caution away and aimed down the barrel of my own M4. I settled it on the first leather wearing alien coming at me and pulled the trigger. He went down, a spray of red hanging in the air and coating the man behind him. I lowered my gun slightly, then shook my head and clenched my jaw. They weren’t people, they came from another world. They came here to steal what was ours. Our money, our things, our girls, even our lives.
“Fuck you,” I growled, even though it was lost in the thunder of the gunfire around me. I lifted the rifle back up and moved from one object to the next, squeezing off near perfect shots that dropped them every time. I wielded the hand of god, striking with impunity wherever I wanted. It was intoxicating.
* * * *
The vision faded from Billy’s memory. He blinked and felt something warm and wet drip onto his chest. A few more blinks and he looked up and grinned. That particular memory was the one he fell back on whenever he needed a boost. It revived him and reminded him of a time when anything was possible; when he was invulnerable. His current situation couldn’t be further from the one in his memory, but he took heart that sooner or later they would make a mistake.
“Did that help your memory, William?”
Billy looked up, squinting past the bright lights that were aimed at him. All he could see was the mirror on the wall. A mirror that he knew was one sided. The lights were bright, but not so bright that he could not see himself tied naked to a metal frame on the wall. It almost looked like a cross, he mused, but there any resemblance to Jesus faded. His hair was short and blond, though streaked with sweat, some dirt, and maybe even blood. His lean body was still suffering spasms from the electrical assault, corded muscles jerking against the restraints that kept him off of the floor. The only other contrasting features were the discolorations from bruises on his body — including a few broken ribs — and the trickle of blood that ran down his chin and onto his chest.
Billy smiled. “I’m not sure,” he rasped out. His throat was raw from screaming, or maybe he hadn’t screamed but it was raw from the pain he’d endured. He couldn’t remember. “Maybe it’s coming back, or maybe I’m waiting for the GPS chip they stuck in me to lead them here?”
He heard an intake of breath from the man on his right. He wasn’t alone in the room, but the torturer with him wasn’t the man in charge. Billy ignored him. “Might be safer for you if you just did me and dumped my body in the river.”
“GPS? Come now William, we went to considerable expense to have this little talk. Do you really think we’d overlook a GPS signal?” The voice came from hidden speakers that Billy couldn’t find. He sensed movement but, knowing he had no defenses, he ignored it up until the fist crashed into his jaw, stunning him senseless for a moment.
Billy picked his head back up and felt the loose teeth. Still there, but loose. He could taste the blood too. Probably his cheek. Or maybe his tongue, he’d bitten both several times now. “Ain’t a GPS, butthole, it’s some magic shit they can track.”
