Across the Wildlands (Book One: The Wildlands)

Episode Thirty-Seven - The Man with the Scarred Face

Year: 2055 CE

Location: 'Mexico'

The room was an obnoxiously pristine white. Tiled floors sparkled under luminescent lights. Everything was immaculate.

Spotlessly clean, except for a stream of blood that followed a narrow path across the smooth tiles. The angle of the floor carried the blood to a drain in the center of the small room. Its trail created an even divide; a crimson river that split the room in two. 

At its source, the blood trickled down from a man hanging from chains in the center of the room. Wounds festered and oozed on every part of his body that was visible.

The man, although marred from wounds old and new, appeared indifferent to his situation. His face bore no expression other than a frown.

"You've been here for a month, longer than most, yet you still won't say where they are." A voice echoed through the room.

The man hanging from his chains looked up slowly.

A figure paced in even steps, back straight and rigid. There was a piece of bamboo gripped tightly in his hands. He was known to all just as the man with the scarred face; someone who found too much joy in torturing those he wanted information from. Nameless, sadistic, and callous.

The man with the scarred face wasted no time in making his intentions known. He drew back the bamboo over his head and laid it across the bare chest of the man in front of him.

His prisoner shouted out at the pain and swung back from the force of the hit, but kept a stern look on his face.

"It's probably because you never asked nicely," the prisoner goaded. He shouted out again when the bamboo hit him across his ribs.

The force of the hit sent a shock-wave through his bones. A rib cracked, and the instantaneous pain that followed would have made anyone fold. But, he managed a sneer through the torture. "Careful, I'm actually into this type of stuff. Normally I'd wait until the second date, but you seem so eager." He continued to provoke the man with the scarred face and smiled through clenched teeth.

"Tell me where they are hiding, Edric, or so help me, I will convince my superiors to let me kill you."

"Oh, good." Edric shifted his wrists against the chains. "I would much rather prefer death at this point."

The man with the scarred face lashed him once more against the stomach and left the room angrily, exiting through a solid metal door he unlocked with a key card at his belt. The door slid open, letting in a rush of cold air that felt like knives against Edric's open wounds.

Edric watched carefully as the door closed. Once the door locked, the chains holding him a few feet off the ground lowered from the ceiling, and his bare feet touched the cold tiles below.

His feet left bloody footprints on the clean tile as he trudged to the side of the room and sat down. The chains still around his wrists felt heavier. Malnourishment and blood loss were taking a toll on his body, and he felt more tired than usual. Edric plucked at the scratchy fabric of the pants he had on and rested his head against the wall, sighing heavily.

He didn't know how much longer he could endure the torture. At a month, he felt his body beginning to shut down; the resistance he once felt strong with was weakening, no matter how much he faked it.

Edric was pulled from his thoughts when a small slot on the metal door opened up, and a piece of bread and a cup of water slid into the room. The slot closed quickly, and the man stared longingly at the food. Although hunger screamed inside of him, he felt sick at the idea of eating anything. He was too exhausted to even make his way over to the tray.

***

Another day arrived, and once more Edric hung from the ceiling. A worker had scrubbed everything in the room during the night. Clean, white tiles reflected the light into Edric's eyes as if it was part of the torture itself.

Edric glanced sideways when the metal door slid open, and the scarred face of the man he had seen every day for the past month entered the room. Different to every other day, though, the man clutched a knife in his right hand.

"My superiors agreed that you've been here too long, and our time would be better spent on someone else who could tell us what we want to know." The man's voice was layered with a tone of excitement.

Edric could feel his stomach knot over itself, but he kept any emotion from his expression. "You're going to kill me?" Edric mused.

"Isn't that what you wanted, anyway?" The man with the scarred face motioned with the knife.

He walked closer to Edric, barely a foot away from him, and appeared to consider how he would kill his prisoner. A devious look dragged up and down Edric, admiring the damage he'd already done. The man with the scarred face turned away and walked to the wall behind him.

"No, I don't," Edric shot.

He had an opportunity before him, one that had not been granted to him in the month he'd been held captive. The man with the scarred face had never turned his back on Edric before.

Edric swung against the chains and wrapped his legs around the man's neck. The momentum of him swinging back against the chains knocked the man with the scarred face off balance, and he stumbled. Edric gripped the man's neck tightly between his knees and twisted to the side with a force that instantly snapped his neck. The man with the scarred face went limp. Edric let him fall to the ground with a loud thud.

He looked up at the chains around his wrists and braced himself for the discomfort he would have to endure to free himself. Edric grasped the chain and pulled himself up to relieve some tension against the chains, then dislocated his thumb. He grunted at the pain, but moved quickly to free himself. The extra room the dislocated joint provided allowed him to slip one hand out of the chains. As he grabbed onto the chain to keep himself up, he freed his other hand.

Quietly, Edric lowered himself to the ground. He took methodic, cautious steps over to the dead man and fished for the key card from his pocket. There was no camera in the room, but the length of time the man with the scarred face was gone would alert someone.

Edric found the card and made his way over to the door, nearly slipping in his own blood. He ran the card over the scanner, and the door slipped open in response.

There wasn't much time to dwell on the feeling of relief that swept over him as he stepped out into the long hallway. A pit of despair sunk in his belly. Edric had no idea how to get out of the building, nor did he know where he was.

He looked left, then right, but everything looked exactly the same. Both directions continued on for about twenty feet, then ended in another split. Edric weighed his options, and after a few moments, he chose to go left.