The Mind Virus

Chapter 13 - Part 2

Walking hesitantly to the door which was now hanging ajar, he passed the threshold.

"You Jim Ford?" came a gruff voice from deeper within the room Jim had just entered.

"Yeah, that's me. I'm afraid I don't have the pleasure," Jim said as he felt around the wall for a light switch. There was none.

"Close that door and come with me."

Jim obeyed, stumbling through the dark room, the only source of light being an office in the distance.

"Does anyone know you're here?"

"No, I didn't know who I could tell without jeopardizing the investigation."

"Wise," the man said, though Jim could swear he'd done so through a smirk.

The two men walked into another dark room, this one with no light at all.

"Close the door," the man said as Jim felt around for a light switch once again.

He found one! As he flicked it, filling the room with light, his stomach dropped. The man who had lured him in was standing on the other side of the room at a desk, back toward Jim, and putting on a mask.

"What's going on?" Jim sputtered.

The man turned to face him. This was the first time he was seeing him in proper light, but the mask was now obscuring his features. It was too much. Jim fought with the door handle, trying to get out of the room.

"Don't bother. It locked the moment you closed it," the man said as he walked toward Jim.

His phone slipped through his fingers as he fumbled with it. By the time he finally got it out, the man had reached him, taken the phone from his hands, and thrown it against a wall. It shattered with a damning crunch as it made contact.

"You're going to listen to me now," the man said matter-of-factly. "What you're looking into – you're going to stop looking into it. Understand?"

"Yeah. Fine, man. It's done. Just unlock the door." Jim made no effort to hide his panic. It was at a high enough level that he didn't think he could.

"Not yet. First I have to send you a clear message."

"I've got it. I understand. Loud and clear. Say no more." Jim's voice was now croaking.

"Nope. Not that kind of message – not with words. I need to give you a more... practical message."

Jim didn't understand what the man was talking about, but he didn't like it. He swallowed hard.

"Are you right handed?" the man asked, as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

Jim nodded.

The man grabbed Jim's dainty right hand, wrapping his fingers around Jim's index finger.

"Wait. Wait. Let's talk about this."

"Hm, no," was the man's only response.

"Please, you don't have to –"

A sickening crunch echoed in the room. Pure, unadulterated pain flowed through Jim like never before as his finger stuck out in an unnatural direction. He was too shocked to even make a sound. He only looked down at his mangled finger as his tear ducts began to well up.

The man removed his hand from Jim's finger, but his relief was short-lived as the man wrapped his hand around Jim's middle finger.

"P-p-p-" Jim couldn't even make words. He tried to resist the man, but he was severely outclassed in both height and weight, not to mention muscle.

Another nauseating crack was heard. Jim whimpered pathetically. He reached into his right pocket with his free left hand, going for his phone, before he remembered it was lying in pieces on the other side of the room. Trying to think of a happy place was futile, since all that did was fill him with negative feelings that may have even been worse than what he was enduring at that moment.

Yet another crunch filled the room as Jim's ring finger was twisted into an aberrant shape. The pain and the despair competed for his attention.

Crack. There goes his pinky finger.

Old Shiny Head let go of Jim's hand. Cradling it brought little comfort.

"Is the message loud and clear?" the man said, his voice making him sound positively bored by the experience.

"Y-y-yes," Jim whimpered, snot and tears flowing down his face.

"Good. We're halfway there," the man said as he took Jim's left hand.