The door to John’s room swung open and Charleston entered with a newly lit cigarette. Without letting John say a word, he blurted out, “Would you like to come with me, doctor?”
Standing up slowly from the cot, his hands finding his pockets, John answered suspiciously, “Well, I don’t know. Depends on where we’re going.”
“Nowhere far.” Charleston pulled out a black cloth and shook it into a rectangular shape. “Now, you’ve been in the army, you know what this is, and you know what it does.”
“Of course, I do. It’s ‘hooding.’ Sensory deprivation; a form of torture. However, this must mean we’ve got plenty of time to do this since it involves isolation. And I thought you were in a hurry for this formula.”
“We sent a message to our headmaster, now we’re waiting for a reply. In the meantime, we’d like to make your stay as memorable as possible.” Charleston threw the cloth to John, cueing him to put it on.
John held the weighted fabric in his hand, turning it over in remembrance of finding his war buddies wearing them upon a rescue. He remembered how terrified and alienated when they were they pulled the cloths off. Many of the ‘hooded’ victims were scarred for life—many having severe cases of insomnia and depression. But John, though he would never admit it, shared the same adventurous characteristic of Sherlock. Smirking slightly, he pulled the hood over his head and allowed Charleston to tighten the ends about the neck as well as secure his hands.
“You’re eager for is, doctor,” Charleston said, leading John through the motel and outside. “Tell me— since you’ve been in the army— are you ever afraid to die?”
In a composed voice, John replied, “Death itself doesn’t frighten me.”
“Then what does?”
John felt a sharp pain grab his heart at the recollection of watching Sherlock take the fall and watching Alana leave his side. No pain of death could outweigh those two moments. “Nothing one like you would understand.”
Charleston grunted and shoved John into a faster walk. The doctor felt the cold air meet his body and he wasn’t sure what was going to happen. The thought of an execution crossed his mind, but he knew they weren’t preparing him for that. As he walked for what felt like quite a long distance, he heard two other men come beside him. The air around him settled and he was shoved onto his knees.
“You’re going to tell us the formula, doctor; otherwise, you’re going to die.” Charleston stated before placing a pair of tight headphones over John’s ears.
John heard the world shut off and a very faint three-beat beep sounded in his ears. It wasn’t a clear beep, or a fuzzy one, just one so soft that it irritated him that its volume couldn’t be increased. John felt a pair of hands pull him to his feet and he was laid across a bored. His hands were pinned to his side and several belts strapped him in place.
“What’s this?” John asked.
The men didn’t answer. They just lifted the board John had been tied to and placed it over a large basin of water. The water submerged the board and John’s back completely, but didn’t go over his chest. John remained silent, trying to figure out his fate. It soon dawned on him that he only had a matter of time before the board gave way (by any shift on his part) and plunged into the water, drowning him instantly. Or, in a more disgusting detail, the water rotted his skin, making it slough off over time. It must’ve been a simple device; he knew he wasn’t worth a full-torture session.
“All right, leave him alone. If you know the code, just tape the button.” Charleston and his men returned to the house, leaving John to wonder where ‘the button’ was.
As he lay there, John began wondering how he could free himself. He knew he couldn’t move too much, one tip from either end could send him to a watery death. Sighing, John listened to the faint beep and stared out into the unpredictable darkness.
For awhile, he enjoyed the quiet and the dark. And soon, he found himself drifting to sleep. However, that suddenly ended when a loud screech boomed through his headphones. John cried out, jerking the board slightly to a more unbalanced position. Feeling the unsteadiness, John quieted his body and tried to find his breath.
“Damn, now they’re onto sleep deprivation!” John muttered to himself. If only he knew the formula.