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Michael Druce ran through the gorge as if his life depended on it. His legs burned with fatigue and he labored for a breath in the thin, mountainous air. The snow-capped mountains sent tendrils of frozen air to burn his cheeks and ears and fingertips. The stitch in his side caused him to wince with every frenzied footfall on the mountain pass. He knew from experience that there was nowhere to run, no hiding place that could keep him safe from the sharp, deadly talons of the giant eagle circling his head.
Only the remembered pain of the thousand times before kept him running. There was no hope for relief, but Michael ran anyway. Tears welled in his eyes, coming dangerously close to freezing as they ran down his face.
He was where he had always wanted to be, here, in the purple snow-capped mountains. Many days; many weeks; many years he had dreamt of leaving behind the city; its windowless buildings and its "walk-on-the-right-side" sense of order; its compliant lemming-like lifestyle. He had longed for open spaces and life without barriers on every side.
But now that he was here, now that his dream was fulfilled, he ran in pain unlike anything he'd ever experienced toward a death even more excruciating.
It always happened this way. He'd change his patterns. He'd run down instead of up, or cling to the cliff-face or take cover under whatever shrubbery he could find, but it never helped.
It only determined which vital organ was first ripped from his body by razor-sharp talons.
He crested the top of the hill and looked back over his shoulder. Nothing there. If he could just make it a little farther, there might be a cave or a crevice or a
windowless room. . .
Pinpoints of hardened fire punctured his eyes. Michael landed on his back, and watched for a brief moment as his eyeballs were ripped from their sockets. He flailed his arms at his unseen attacker, striking metallic feathers. The talons clamped down and Michael felt the pressure and release as his eyes were crushed to a fibrous mash.
And much to his dismay, his dismemberment was only beginning.
Again.
And Again.
And Again.
###
Dr. O'Sullivan sat with his assistant in the windowless confines of the Ministry of Health and Welfare and watched the patient struggle against his restraints. "How long do you think we have to keep him under like this?" his assistant asked.
Dr. O'Sullivan blew out a stream of blue-gray cigarette smoke. "A few more days," he said. "When we're done, he'll love life again."
His assistant wiped sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his lab-coat. "It just seems so cruel," he said.
Dr. O'Sullivan smiled. "Love is cruel." |
