seymoure

Chapter 55

“Trapped Within”

We have all known terror.

It comes from within ourselves, usually when others learn something we thought would never be known.

The Night Terror spent nearly a year tracking the roots of the “Black Asp” drug gang. Between 2004 and 2005 it was a consuming passion.

These guys were responsible for bringing about 65% of the heroin that reached the streets of Mythic City. This, however, was a tiny portion of their output. They brought the stuff from Afghanistan and China and pumped it into ports from Shanghai to Seattle. At the time they were giving the South American Cartels a run for their money. Luckily for the Cartels they were not direct competitors, since they highlighted different drugs. But, it seems, they were not looking for anybody to get as big doing this kind of product placement.

That’s why the South Americans, undercover, gave Jason a lot of information that took him to the headquarters of the Asps, in Bangkok.

As he struggled against his bonds, on that table, he wondered if the informants he had used had alerted the Thais of his investigation. He had been convinced that they were enemies, but perhaps he had been used. He had broken up ring after ring of their operation on his way here, but now he was their prisoner, and wondered what they were going to do with him.

He didn’t have to wait for long. He knew they were planning some sort of get together that would cement new agreements with their distributors. That meeting was the reason he had come. This would be the big bust. Arresting all of them at this grouping would, in effect, cripple the operation for good.

“Ah, the detective in the funny suit,” a relatively tall member of the gang hissed as he came into the darkened room. Jason knew him by the nickname “Doctor.” He was the man who formulated and tested the newest drugs for the Asps. They were always looking for the poison that would become the “New Wave” in illegal product.

His quick study of Asian language had served him well in his search for this den, even if this outcome had not made it seem so, but at least he could understand what the Doctor was saying.

“You may know that, as well as creating new drugs for your wastrel young people to lose themselves in, I am a historian of ‘Eastern Medicine’ and the many potions created before your country was even discovered,” the man said as he checked to make sure the straps that held his foe were secure.

“There are so many things lost in the back alleys of time that they alone could make one lose himself in the research,” He almost seemed happy to be able to share his enthusiasm with someone, “What I am going to give you is a combination of some of those discoveries.”

“It is a variation on a drug used in Haiti,” he narrated as he produced a small needle, “It will have to be regularly re-administered because it only lasts a few dozen hours at a time.”

He found a spot in Jason’s neck and drove the needle unceremoniously deep as he spoke, “It was called the ‘Zombifier’ because it made those victims upon which it was used to appear dead to all those around them. Even physicians would not be able to tell they were still alive. They would then be buried, even though they were totally aware. They could see, hear and smell everything going on around them. Then when the effect wore off they went mad, and were easily controlled by those who dug them up. They came to believe they were Zombies created by the person who had cursed them with the powder that carried the drug.”

Numbness was consuming Jason’s fingers and legs as the Doctor continued, “We both know there are other ways, beyond these, to create Zombies. But these were the ones that became the ones of popular legend.

“The difference is that we will continue the dosage with you.”

Suddenly Jason couldn’t feel his body at all. His breath was so slight he couldn’t hear himself breathing.

“We will keep you barely alive until we chose to dispose of you,” The Doctor laughed, “And when we release you from this state the fear of returning to this living death will make you happily give us all the information you have that we might want.”

With that the man left Jason alone in the room.

Jason tried to look after him but he couldn’t move his head.

Not only that, he couldn’t move his eyes.

He could see the grimy ceiling above him, but that was all.

He lay there with nothing but his thoughts. For all his physical training, hours of work, he couldn’t get his body to answer his commands.

It wasn’t long before he had memorized every aspect of the ceiling. He could have painted an exact replica at any time.

Then he heard a click, and the lights were turned out. Without a window in the room he was in total darkness.

He strained to hear anything, but there was nothing to be heard. No distant cars, no footsteps in hallways, not a sound anywhere could he savor.

Hours stretched into days. His grasp of reality was held together by his running math formulas and old movie plots through his panicking mind.

Then someone flipped on the light again.

Had he been able to cry he would have done so, and done so with no shame.

That ceiling had become his only companion.

After about another day he noticed that his eye lids were still blinking. He spent a long while timing the blinks, even made up songs in his head and sang them to himself using the blinks as his metronome.

Not only could he not move he couldn’t sleep either. Soon he wondered if he would be able to distinguish the difference between the two states.

What would separate them anyway?

As the last vestige of who he was threatened to slip away they came to get him.

They rolled the gurney that had held him for so long onto a stage.

His feet were lowered and his head was raised and he was facing a large room full of men in suits who were mocking him in a myriad of languages.

He knew they were gathered to watch him humiliated, then pumped for information, and then possibly killed.

He finally admitted to himself that this last was something he had, during the last weeks, or was it months, for which he had prayed.

It was at that moment the Interpol squad invaded the building.

He had been working with the agency, and now they were making the bust.

In a short while Jason could feel the muscles in his body begin to respond to his commands.

Eventually he spoke to the agent in charge of the operation that was just now mopping up.

“You guys took your time,” he said with not a little anger.