Track of the Beast: A Brock Stone Adventure

Interlude 7

In the ensuing days, Stone’s life fell into a pattern. Gideon alternated between attacking, feeding, and instructing him. All of it took place in the darkness. He quickly began to notice changes in himself.

His sense of hearing had been honed to a fine edge. Now, he could hear a single grain of sand fall to the floor. His sense of taste was now refined to the point where he could quickly distinguish which among several buckets of water had a single grain of salt added to it. He sharpened his sense of smell by making him identify ever-fainter scents from increasingly greater distances and enhanced his sense of learning to identify words carved in grains of rice.

He used the latter improved skill to explore his cell. He discovered that the floor was riddled with what felt like trapdoors. That was how Gideon came and went so easily. He took to waiting beside them, hoping to catch Gideon entering, but he always chose the wrong one.

There were also conversations, and not always with Gideon. There were three others — two men, and a woman. Stone eventually could identify them before they spoke, and he named them according to their most identifiable trait: Heavy Walker, Lip Smacker, and Curry Woman.

They engaged Stone in a wide range of discussions, but all the while they were picking him apart, forcing him to reveal his deepest fears, regrets, and shame. He knew exactly what they were doing, but he was desperate for human interaction, so he opened up in ways he never had before.

Stone was surprised to find the conversations brought him a measure of relief from the heavy burden of guilt he carried. He had never been much of a talker, which had created problems in his personal life. His old girlfriend, Trinity, had called him a ‘nut she was determined to crack’. Thinking of her brought back painful memories. Stone had cut her, and all the people he loved, out of his life for their own good.

On one occasion, Curry Woman asks him a rare direct question.

“What finally convinced you to leave the service? Was there a single tipping point?”

Stone took his time before answering. He scratched his chin, reflected on painful memories.

“The decision had been coming for some time. But on my last mission, I came to strongly suspect my commanding officer was working on behalf of the Nazis through a group called the Illuminati. I realized I couldn’t know if my marching orders were coming from Washington or Berlin.”

There was a long silence before Curry Woman replied.

“Men and institutions are easily corrupted, but values are worth fighting for.”

Before Stone could reply, Gideon spoke.

“It is time for a new lesson. Hold out your hand.”

As always, Stone could not tell where Gideon was standing. The man sounded like he was everywhere at once. Stone held out his hand and felt something soft land on his palm. It was a single hair. The fact he could feel it was a testament to the progress he had already made.

“Identify it,” Gideon said.

“A single hair? Impossible.”

A sharp pain burned the back of his calves. He felt it, but after so many days of beatings, his mind barely acknowledged it. It was a dull, distant thing. He threw a punch in the direction he thought the blow had come. He missed and received another whack across the legs for his trouble.

“Identify it.”

He drew the hair between his thumb and forefinger. It was thick, coarse. He held it up and sniffed it. He was surprised by its strong odor. Was it just his heightened senses or was there more to it than that? He took another whiff. He didn’t think it was a bear. The stench reminded him of a fox’s den, or maybe that of a skunk. He was stumped.

“It’s a wild animal, but not one I am familiar with.” He braced himself, expecting to be hit again. After a few seconds, Gideon spoke.

“You are correct.”

After that, there were no more lessons, only beatings.

Stone knew what was happening. They had taught him to see without his eyes. Now it was time to prove he had learned the lesson well enough.

The problem was, even with all his heightened senses, Gideon moved like a cloud of vapor. Only on rare occasions could Stone hear the soft pad of footsteps, or the gentle brush of fabric against flesh. On those occasions, he attacked with fury. One time, his knuckles grazed Gideon’s sleeve. He received a cup of coffee along with his meal that night.

He didn’t drink it.

He had a plan.