“Try harder, Eugene. Was it in September?”
“I think it was August.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I just remembered. It was right after I was invited out for a barbecue by my friend, Dennis.”
“Would that be Dennis O’Reilly?”
“Yes, doctor.”
“Good, good.”
Eugene noticed the austere man with a permanent frown typing away as he answered the doctor’s questions.
He then turned back to the doctor. “What is this place?” Almost as soon as he got the question out he was viciously struck again by Hurd. Eugene shrieked in pain.
“You answer the doctor’s questions, understand?” Hurd said. “And you don’t ask questions—we do the asking, understand?”
“Yes, sir,” Eugene answered meekly.
“Good, good,” Sistrunk said. “Now tell me all about Cassandra.”
Eugene told the doctor everything he could remember about her. He corrected himself numerous times. He couldn’t stop his mind from wandering when the doctor asked him another question. When he hesitated or looked puzzled Hurd would beat him again.
At last, Dr. Sistrunk stopped the interrogation. “Good, good, good, Eugene.”
Sistrunk wore a supercilious smile almost the whole time. He walked around in his lab coat like every move was carefully scripted. He had an unctuous manner, a haughty profile, and a slow, deliberate style of speaking.
“I think Eugene is hungry and thirsty, eh, Hurd?” Hurd was silent, but stood at parade rest next to Eugene. “Unstrap him, Hurd.”
Hurd did so, but as soon as Eugene was free he leaped up, pushed Hurd aside, and made a dash for the stairs. He didn’t get far, however. Hurd was too quick and strong for Eugene, who was out of shape. Hurd grabbed him from behind, shouted for the upstairs guard, who then hurried down, and the two forced Eugene back into the chair, strapping him back down. The upstairs guard went back to his post, while Hurd disappeared out of sight. When he returned a few minutes later he was carrying two truncheons. They were black, and about two feet in length.
Hurd had a vicious look on his face. “You shouldn’t have done that, man. You shouldn’t piss me off like that.”
He hung up one truncheon and grabbed the other. He then beat Eugene over the head with it. It was soft, so as to inflict pain without cracking the skull. Hurd struck Eugene in the head with it several more times, and then struck him about the neck and shoulders; Eugene screaming each time. Then he turned to his feet and ankles and struck him there.
When he finished with the soft one, he hung that one up and grabbed the other one. This one was made of a hard polymer. He swung it horizontally, striking Eugene in the stomach several times. Eugene wasn’t sure how much he screamed, but when he tried to speak he could barely utter a sound. Tears streamed down his bloodied and purplish face.
After Hurd finished his punishment, Dr. Sistrunk emerged from the hallway. He was no longer smiling, and wore a crooked frown. He was a little man, about five feet-six, skinny, and sometimes had glasses on and sometimes not.
“That was a very bad thing you just did,” he lectured. “What did you hope to accomplish, Mr. Sulke? You could never have gotten past Hurd; and even if you did, you’d never make it past the upstairs guard. What did you get for your troubles? You got punished, Mr. Sulke.”
“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, doctor,” Eugene uttered in a raspy voice he didn’t recognize as his own.
Sistrunk’s frown was gone now and he put on a haughty look. “Eugene, I’ve treated many men. I assure you, there is nothing that you can do to avoid treatment. I’ve treated soldiers, politicians, journalists, and ordinary people such as yourself. I even treated a Blue Squad soldier. He was a tough one. He was angry, vicious, and stubborn. He would sit right in that chair you’re sitting in now and spit in my face. Of course he would be punished, but he’d take it like it never bothered him. This went on for a week. Oh, I tell you, Eugene, he was full of threats, and the look he gave the guards… it was like he wanted to kill them, but of course, he couldn’t.
“By the second week he was a beaten man. He still refused to answer questions, and when he could muster up the strength, he’d spit at me; but he was beaten, and he knew it. Once he began cooperating, the punishment would cease. He’d get regular meals and water, and eventually he was cured.”
Eugene tried to muster the strength to speak. “What am I being treated for?”
Sistrunk looked surprised, and then his mien turned to understanding. His crooked smile was back. “You don’t fit in, Eugene. Your thoughts are scattered. You don’t understand the world around you. You think life is unfair; hostile. You are afraid of your government. You don’t believe the Constitution works anymore. You think the courts are against you. You think there are malevolent—”
“No, that’s not it—”
“DON’T TALK BACK TO ME.”
Hurd struck him in the face with an open hand, and then he grabbed the hard club, whacking him in the mid-section again. “You don’t criticize the doctor—understand, shithead?”
All Eugene could utter was a pathetic, “I’m sorry, doctor.”
“That’s all right, Eugene. I understand. You understand too, don’t you Mr. Hurd?”
“Yes, doctor. Eugene’s just like the rest of them when they first get here: angry, resentful, and snotty.”
“Now that we understand each other better, let’s go on with Professor Harold Zinney. Shall we begin with how you met him?”
“Please doctor, my stomach hurts a lot. I think I might have a broken rib.”
Sistrunk motioned for the nurse, who was sitting at the utility table. She opened up the display cabinet and reached in for a bottle of something. She gave Eugene what appeared to be aspirin with a glass of water. Then he repeated his question to Eugene.
Eugene began answering all the doctor’s questions, wincing through the pain, and then asked for some water. Hurd didn’t take the straps off, but squirted bottled water in Eugene’s mouth. He spit it up, and Hurd and the doctor began laughing.
“Eugene,” Hurd said, “you told me you were thirsty, but look, Doc—he just spits it all out. Well, I guess you weren’t so thirsty, after all.”
Hurd removed the bottle, but Eugene protested. “Please! It’s too much. Please take the straps off me.”
“If I let you out of your chair, will you promise to behave yourself, Eugene?” the doctor said.
“Yes, I promise, doctor.”
Eugene was released and taken to the utility table, where he was told to sit down. A few minutes later, the nurse brought him some soup and bottled water. Eugene drank down the water at once and asked for more. Then he ate the soup. It was mostly chicken broth; not very filling.
After ten minutes Eugene was brought back to his chair. Hurd started to strap him in, but Sistrunk stopped him.
“I don’t think that will be necessary, Hurd.”
The nurse brought him another bottle of water and handed it to Eugene, who continued to quench his enormous thirst.
The interrogation continued but Eugene seemed to drift in and out of consciousness. He couldn’t concentrate well, and when he didn’t answer right away Hurd would hit him again. Eugene found himself gibbering away so as to avoid the punishment.
Eugene prattled on until he noticed there was no one around. He looked up at the clock. It was half past eight. He figured he must have passed out because the last time he noticed the time it was about 6:30. Eugene stopped talking, and the next time he looked at the clock it was 11:45. He also noticed he was strapped to the chair again. He wasn’t sure for how long, but he realized he must have passed out again.
Doctor Sistrunk came back and called for Hurd. The guard came back down the steps and resumed his position next to Eugene. Then the recorder, or whatever he was, resumed his position to the right of him.