Gemini Rising Ethereal Fury- Book I, Chapters 1-14

Gemini Rising Ethereal Fury- Book I, Chapters 14-16

Chapter 14

Captivity

Bishop Phillips and Darius had Onyx's rapt attention as they exited their small conference room. The bishop stood in the doorway while Darius walked further down the hall. The floor was slanted and started to decline. There were sixty watt bulbs hanging every thirty or forty feet from one, continuous suspended wire. At the eighth or ninth door, Darius stopped and pulled a huge ring of keys from his robes. The hinges creaked eerily as they opened the old door and entered.

The first things Onyx noticed were the abundant medical supplies that lined metal shelves against every wall. They were filled with stashes of gauze, tape, stitching kits, syringes, bedpans, every supply imaginable, just like a hospital stock room. What the hell was all this stuff used for? Knocking someone out is one thing, but this was enough to run a lab, an emergency unit, even a surgical suite. There were saline pouches, IV poles, armies of prescription bottles lined up neatly and ready to fight any infection. Amongst the folded wheelchairs there were at least five gurneys leaning against the wall, wheels ready to go. Darius grabbed one of these and easily lifted the break with his big toe. He also grabbed another syringe and prepared it expertly, tapping it and then tossing the empty bottle into a sharps container.

Onyx was surprised by all of this. An uneasy feeling was nibbling at him, warning him this could not end well. Darius rolled the gurney back through the door and into the hall. Both men were silent, as if they had done this many times and did not need to consult with each other. They lifted Slate onto the gurney, strapped him down, and shot the syringe of amber liquid into his arm. What was their motive? Did they fear Slate? Did they think possession was some kind of disease they could cure with drugs?

As if there were no rush for either of them, they casually strolled even further down the dank hall. After passing another ten padlocked doors, they swung right. This corridor was narrower and even dimmer than the main one. There were tight double doors like you might see in a quarantine unit. These were obviously doors made with the intention of keeping something in, or keeping something out.

Once the chains on the doors were undone and they were over the threshold, the bishop turned and fastened some deadbolts behind him. They went through a little alcove that opened up into a large room. Along the walls, about every ten feet, there were doors with small metal windows; they were much smaller than the average window and were positioned at eye level.

In the center of the room, a huge wooden table, laden with rolls of white and black material, was positioned beneath a fluorescent light.  There were inlaid basins on every corner of the table, with drains pipes in plain that ran into the ground. There was also a spool of industrial strength twine stuck on an upturned rolling pin that had been severed in half and epoxied to the table. Utility scissors, duct tape, and a few nails completed the ensemble and gave the impression of a crude operating table. This all seemed odd but acceptable… until he saw the table top at a different angle. Under the fluorescent bulbs, when he looked straight down at the table, he saw that it was stained a crimson brown. On closer inspection, he took note of knife marks, haphazard drill holes, and finger nail gouges. A torture device?

There were no sounds from any of the cells that surrounded the apparatus until the two men began to make noise by wheeling in the gurney to rest beside the table. Then a torrent of moans came from behind the doors; high and low pitched groans, muffled cries, but no words.

Onyx turned his attention to Slate, who had been placed flat on the table. The bishop was withdrawing a Bible from his robes and preparing to read. Darius produced a small vial of holy water and began dripping the water onto his son’s ashen forehead. He examined the water droplets for a minute or two and then nodded and finally spoke. "No bubbling or blistering of the skin, that's hopeful." He withdrew his rosary and laid the cross down to the beads of water, right on Slate’s third eye.