Quantum Poppers by Matthew Reeve Read Free Book Online

He had ushered the other men to
stay in the corridor. He had thick black hair with grey along the sides. John
thought he fit in rather well, even his suit appeared aged with streaks of
grey. ‘Have you been treated well?’
    ‘Apart from
being imprisoned against my will?’ He threw the remote down onto the bed and
still sitting turned his body to face the man.
    ‘Yes, as I say,
we had no choice in that. Matters grew out of hand and we had to act quickly.
This is the best thing for you and for all of us.’
    ‘What is
happening?’
    ‘You will be
told, I just need you to know that you are not in any danger. You are safe
here. But we will try and be more communicative with you. If there’s anything
you need…’
    ‘My family,’
John shouted and got to his feet. The man took a step back. ‘I want my family
and I want to go home.’
    ‘We are working
on that.’
    ‘It's ok,’ said
John and he slumped back onto the bed. ‘I’ve accepted I won’t be seeing them
for a while, so I can’t get too disappointed anymore.’
    ‘That might be
for the best.’ The man then turned and opened the door. Something about this
triggered something in John. As if there was a mild threat involved.
    ‘You owe me the
truth. That’s the only thing I’ve ever asked.’
    The man turned
and outside the three others had been joined by two more, each striving for a
look within.
    ‘We’re still
working on your explanation, as I said the other day, we’re not too sure what’s
going on either.’
    ‘That doesn’t
make me feel any better.’
    ‘As for who we
are - all you need to know is that you are not in danger, your family will
definitely see you again, and if there is anything else you need to make your
stay more comfortable just call. My name is Bartley.’
     
    It took six
months for John to fully accommodate to his surroundings. Whilst random bursts
of aggression against his captors and the surroundings (he was on his third
television and fourth mirror) had grown less frequent during this time it was
half a year before he fully accepted he was here for the duration. No
substantial answer had been given. Bartley, among others, had assured him that
he was in the best of hands. Health care would be fully supplied, he would
continually be fed, they would play the perfect host – he was, however, assured
that seeing the outside world, let alone his family, was out of the question.
This was the cruelest punishment of all. He thought back to what he could have
done to deserve such treatment and came up with nothing. He needed his wife and
he needed his kids, more so than he could possibly have imagined.
    He had made his
surroundings as comfortable as possible. He requested flowers to give the room
some kind of life and the hint that a woman shared his new home. He was allowed
reading material, had made his way through over half of Stephen King’s lengthy
bibliography, and was allowed access to films and music. New clothes, specific
foods when requested and alcohol was gladly given in abundance. The only thing
not given was an affirmative request to a phone call, just one. At this, it was
made clear that all his gifts and day-to-day living accoutrements were in
exchange for his silence.
    The urge to
flee had subsided. He was going nowhere. No one entered without making it clear
there were at least three more men outside. He also recalled, from his hurried
entrance to this building, a descent down stairs plus security gates and
cameras. He could not leave, wherever he was.
    It was
September 10th according to the morning news, and that evening he sang quietly
‘Happy Birthday’ to Jennifer before crying himself to sleep.
     
    John lifted his
head out of his hands and stared at the man standing opposite him. He was
drained of the required strength to spring across the room, kick the man in the
face, and run out past whoever was waiting outside, and into wherever was
waiting beyond. He brushed his hand through his lengthening hair