It’s Monday, and around here, that means a brand new piece of writing! For those of you new to the blog, Monday One-Word Writing is a challenge to me and entertainment for you; I take one word and try to make a short story out of it in around 30 minutes, and then post what I come up with on here! Usually, the word comes from a comment on the previous week’s post, but since this is the first post in while, I’ve cranked up the old random word generator and was given the word “suppressor”. Which works just fine… So without further adieu, here it is!
Three puffs and he was down.
I had heard the soft sound come from somewhere in the trees. Three quick bursts of a muffled sound reached my ears as my brain began to process the sight in front of me. William, guarding the door across the complex, was collapsing. My legs began to move towards him involuntarily as my brain comprehended the noise. Gunfire, I thought. Suppressed.
Then everything went black.
I woke with extreme pain in my gut. I couldn’t move my head to confirm where the pain was coming from, but I knew I had been shot. Moving my head wouldn’t have done much anyway, because the moment I stirred, I was whipped around by a man. He leaned in close and whispered, “What is the combination?”
I groaned, partially because of the pain and partially because his breath smelled terrible, like day old fish left on a grocery counter. He must have misinterpreted my cringing, because he pressed his gun into my neck. I felt the cool metal of the silencer and mustered a chuckle. “I am not afraid to die,” I mumbled groggily.
“Of course you aren’t,” the man whispered. “But everyone is afraid of pain.” In one quick motion he shoved a rag in my mouth and his knee into my gut.
My eyes darted open and I screamed into the rag. “Now, are you ready to talk?” he asked. I looked into his eyes with determination and shook my head. “Then we continue.” And he forced his knee deeper into my stomach. This time, the pain was unbearable; his knee had found the bullet hole. I let a gut-wrenching scream out, but it was muffled by the rag over my mouth. “Now are you ready?” he asked patiently, and I nodded my head vigorously in reply. He took his knee and waited for my groans to stop before removing the rag.
“5287,” I gasped. “The combo is 5287.”
He rolled me over and I felt a large object slam into the back of my head.
“Then I woke up and was brought here. I guess you caught him,” I said meekly.
“You could say that,” Dr. Reyes said. “If by caught, you mean caught in gunfire. The man is dead. And as to why you aren’t… Well, I guess that’s why they call them the good guys.” He spoke the word ‘good’ like it was a swear word. “Still, I believe you have proven yourself a… Oh, what’s the word…” Dr. Reyes stumbled to find the correct word in his second language of English. “Ah, there it is! Liability.”
My gut hurt once again, but this was no physical pain: it was fear. “Liability?”
“Yes, that is the word. You have proven yourself untrustworthy. And so something must be done.”
The two men standing beside Dr. Reyes stepped towards me. “Dr. Reyes, you can’t do this! I’m loyal! I can fight!” I continued to protest to the old man as I was dragged away, until suddenly one of them punched my stomach and I blacked out again.
I hope you liked it! Remember to leave your comment below with a suggestion for what word you think I should use next week with a new piece!