Breaking Point

IV: Coffee and Cigarettes

IV:  Coffee and Cigarettes

Fight? And then what?  Say by some miracle he breaks loose, what would he do then?  Improvise?  No.  He needed to be alert.  See and learn as much as possible, then formulate a plan (or at least a rough outline).  He slowly turned his back to his captors.  He got down on his knees and put his hands on his head.

The persistent refrigerator buzz disappeared suddenly.  The force field was off. 

 Francis herd the soft, light footsteps of the four aliens make their way from cold metal to plastic grass.   He closed his eyes and listened to their cautious steps growing closer. They were in arms reach now; he could feel their presence surrounding him. 

Francis had to fight every urge to lash out at his jailors.  Breath, he told himself, just breath.  He sucked a lungful of air in his lungs and let it out slowly.  Not yet, but soon.

He shivered as a cold, thick metal band was pressed against the back of his neck.  He heard a hinge closing below his left ear, and the icy metal wrapping around the front of his neck.  With a loud click below his right ear, the collar was locked in place.

He squeezed his eyes closed.  There was the snap of a metallic link below his chin, then another at the back of his head. 

Fear gripped Francis as he opened his eyes.  A long metal pole protruded from his throat.  The other end was in the firm, skillful grasp of a horrible alien.  He felt a tug on the back of his neck lift him to his feet.  Another metal pole with another alien handling him from behind.  It was just like his dream. 

He took his hands off his head and lowered them to his sides.  Another alien produced a set of handcuffs that matched his collar.  Francis arm jerked away involuntarily as he felt the cold, clammy fingers of the alien grasp his arm. 

“I’ll do it!  Just don’t touch me!”  He held his wrists together, straight out in front of him, so they could be cuffed without those things touching him any more than they had to. 

He looked down to the ground to avoid looking at his frightening captors.  They made him uncomfortable.  The cold metal bands were attached, and to his relief, he did not feel skin contact with the aliens any more. 

They had begun to march out of the cell when he noticed Qiao’s violent sobs.  He tried to look around as best he could, but he couldn’t see her.  She was hiding behind the couch.  Stay there, he thought.  Hopefully, she wasn’t coming with him. 

He was led out of his cell, and his feet marched onto the cold metal floor by four aliens.  An alien in front and behind led him by the metal rods attached to his neck.   The other two were on either side, holding their wands inches away from his chest in case he should try to make a move.

The fifth alien, still at the control panel, pushed some buttons on the display.  With another flash of light, Qiao’s sobbing was cut off.  The force field was in fact soundproof. 

He inadvertently hunched down as he walked under the 6 foot ceiling.  Though he wasn’t quite 6 feet tall, the top of his head tingled with the close proximity of the hard metal surface. 

He looked down the hallway.  There was no end in sight, but about 30 feet away the wall jutted out 3 feet into the corridor.  Another cell, he thought.  However, before he could confirm his suspicion, he was turned right down another hallway, away from the cell.  He tried to catch a glimpse of the other cell, but his neck was pulled forward by the metal rods.

His feet slapped against the cold metal floor, and a chill entered his body.  But this was not a chill of fear.  He was calm, collected and alert.  The corridor was about 10 degrees colder than his cell.  Since he was basically naked and barefoot, the change was dramatic.