The Return of Locklear

The Return of Locklear (Part 2 of Series)

The man across from me lay strapped to a similar gurney. He appeared to be stripped of his clothing, as I could see his bare flesh rising and falling in an unsteady panic. Across the pale heaving canvas, I could make out a crisscrossing grid of pen marks. The dashed lines were laid about in a way that highlighted certain parts of the torso.

A chilling thought sent a shiver down my spine. The marks seemed to map out all the man's vital organs. Did... Did our captor intend to carve them out?

No, I couldn't panic yet. I had to keep my head if I was going to make it out with my life. I turned once more to glance at the poor soul beside me, and that's when I noticed him returning the gaze.

He looked exhausted and stared at me through tear stained eyes. He wore an expression of utter hopelessness and defeat, and he barely even reacted to my presence. Since my unfortunate friend made no attempt to start a conversation, I decided to make the first move.

I tried to ask him his name, but all that came out was a harsh croak. I took a moment to clear my dried out throat before trying again. This time I was able to produce a few words.

"Hey" I muttered.

The man's eyes came to a focus on me, but he said nothing.

"Hey" I repeated again, "Do you know where we are? What the hell is all of this? That man; do you know anything about him?"

Finally that seemed to snap him to attention. He began shifting uncomfortably and motioning to the door from which the man had exited moments ago with his eyes. I was confused by this and didn't understand why he didn't just answer me, so I asked again.

He furrowed his brow and then opened his mouth to respond. But all that came out was a muffled cry of sorts. It was then that I noticed the stained gauze shoved in his mouth. He struggled with it for a moment before finally spitting it out, the soiled white cotton landing unceremoniously on his shaking chest.

I couldn't help but let my mouth drop in horror. The poor man... someone had all but removed his tongue. It had to have been our captor, as the wound still looked fairly fresh. Oddly enough, the incision looked quite precise. It was a clean cut with minimal trauma to the surrounding areas. This wasn't just your run of the mill psychopath with a butcher knife. Whoever had abducted us was clearly some sort of professional with medical training.

The man tried desperately to communicate with me, but the lack of his oral appendage made it almost impossible to understand. He kept mouthing the same few syllables, but I had no idea what they meant. However, within moments I found his manic mumblings turn into frantic screams as the door to our holding chamber opened once more. I threw my head back to its original position and resumed feigning unconsciousness.

Within moments the madman was looking over my companion, cooing at him again. But this time his words came out slightly muffled. Knowing that I could only maintain my act for so long anyways, I opened my eyes once more and turned to face my abductor.

If I thought those hateful blue eyes were unsettling, what now faced me was far worse. He had the hood of his robe pulled over his head, now hiding the majority of his wild curls, and over his face, he wore what looked like an old plague doctor's mask. The beak was stained from some sort of dark material, (I cared not to imagine what could have been the source) and he wore large circular goggles over the eyeholes. His wicked blue eyes were no longer visible through the dark tinted glass.

I couldn't help but release a gasp at the sight. Hearing this, he immediately unlocked his gaze upon my neighbor, and began approaching me.