“Need my clothes to leave,” he stammered. “I I’m leaving this hole and never coming back.”
“Well, you’re right about one thing. I do indeed doubt you are ever coming back,” Norm said, smiling cruelly as he opened the door to the earthen cell and waved in the two waiting stickies. The muties effortlessly lifted the scavenger and the chair he was bound to between them and followed Norm out of the door. And then it was Adrian’s turn to scream, cry and curse as his own inner demons and fears came scuttling out, unleashed and gibbering as he was carried into the center of the cavernous tobacco warehouse and dropped painfully to the floor. The wooden chair splintered and broke, and he was free, his arms and legs tangled in strands of wire. He rolled in the dust, struggling in the dimly lit area to stand erect.
How could his big score have gone so badly? He’d only wanted a second look at the cryo chambers for himself and now he’d succeeded in chilling himself.
He got to his feet and saw the circle of the stickies closing around him.
“Please,” he begged, weeping, tears running down his cheeks and into his beard. His cut lips started to bleed from Norm’s sucker punch once more. “Please!”
The smell of the blood from the injured human made the circle of stickies anxious. Norm stepped forward from the circle, carrying a small metal canister painted in deep green.
“Do you know what is inside this container?” he asked to a chorus of oohs and aahs.
Two stickies hesitantly raised their hands, like obedient pupils in a classroom.
“Not you, dammit,” Norm growled. “I was talking to our guest.”
Adrian didn’t answer.
“Come now, you’re a scavie!” Norm needled him, holding out the canister like the eager host of a pre-dark game show. “You’ve seen this before! Inform us!”
The naked man continued to cry.
“I take it back,” Norm snorted, raking his gaze over his brethren. “As bad as you stickies get, at least you don’t shit yourself and start sniveling when your number is up.”
Norm stepped up to the weeping Adrian and grabbed him by the hair, pulling hard, making the man crane his neck and fall back as he looked up into the horribly disfigured man’s eyes, which seemed to be glowing with a malevolent evil. Adrian looked up and knew in his heart he was viewing the devil himself.
“This, friend Alton, is a container filled with black powder. As I’m sure you’ve heard, what with your thriving career in information exchange, that stickies have developed most unusual ways of using this substance for their own amusement. A cut here, a stab there, and fill the hole with powder. Or if one doesn’t want to make a hole, one can use some of the other orifices of the human body. Eye sockets, ears, the nose, mouth. A particular favorite is ramming a heaping helping of powder up a man’s ass and lighting a fuse. Boom! Blows his cock clear across the room!” The gathered stickies began to gibber and talk among themselves, waiting for the word. Norm turned to them to grin and wallow in the sensation of power, still keeping his grip on the scavie’s hair.
“If the powder disturbs you, we can try some other stickie game. Perhaps tie you down spread-eagle, and push thumbtacks in your eyes. Push straight pins under your fingernails, into your balls. Take a knife and cut you to pieces, a bit at a time. There are always alternatives.”
Adrian was listening and decided Norm was right. He reached up, grabbing the scarred man’s hand that gripped his hair. He grabbed the hand with both of his own, and pulled with all of his fading strength. Norm fell flat, dropping the powder and losing his hold on his prisoner’s hair. Adrian rolled over on his captor and began to throttle him with both hands.
“If I die, you’re going with me!” he screamed as he squeezed as hard as he could, willing all of his own hate and fear into the man below him.
His last, desperate ploy never stood a chance.