FICTION

Arms Length: Part 2

Shedding some light

Stevie woke slowly, her head filled with the sounds of muffled voices. At first, she wasn’t even sure if she was conscious, and when she opened her eyes, there was still only darkness.

Her head gradually cleared and so did the voices. Strange. There was no feeling below her neck. It felt like an out of body experience, existing as an observer without the benefit of light.

Stevie closed her eyes again, tightly, hoping to will away the nightmare she was trapped in. She listened intently to the increased bickering by the voices around her.

“You are so right, Mike. I don’t know why they won’t listen to you.” A man’s voice.

A woman spoke up. She was adamant in her tone. “You have nothing to say about this. Both of you. You’re only looking out for yourselves.”

Stevie concentrated as the argument intensified. A calmer male tone broke in during a pause. “People, please. We must turn to faith to see ourselves through this predicament. “

“Predicament?”, the female shot back. “ How can you call this a mere predicament? Get your head out of the sand.”

Another male voice, sounding like he had gravel in his throat. “Suckers! Losers. We’re all pathetic.” Again, everyone began talking over each other, escalating into a shouting match.

Stevie opened her eyes slowly. This time, the faces of seven people were lit up in a circle around her. Each was individually lit down to the top of their shoulders.

An older male, an elderly man with a shock of slicked-back silver hair, stopped everyone else from speaking. “Shut up, all of you!”, he erupted from the spot directly to Stevie’s left. “I’m only interested in answers on how to get me out of here.”

“He’s right”, said the man on Stevie’s right, a middle-aged fellow with a weak chin and pasty skin. “Mike should not have to endure this. You’re far too important, Mike.”

“What do you propose to do about it then, ass kisser?”, snapped the woman across the circle. She wore tightly curled, jet black hair which gently fell on her rounded, dark-skinned shoulders. The scowl on her face, Stevie thought, sadly diminished her striking beauty.

A heavily tattooed, shaved bald head two places to Stevie’s right chimed in, “I’ve heard enough out of you.” A pious looking little man across from Skinhead shook his head with disdain but didn’t say another word. A tiny female to the left of the tattooed man seemed to be working very hard at remaining invisible. She cowered in her place, chin pointed to her chest, afraid to make eye contact.

The last person in the group was a well-coiffed blond, with heavy make-up and false eyelashes. She looked impervious to everything going on around her. She was placed between the man of faith and the one they called Mike. All Stevie could do was to sit in stunned silence while the bantering continued.

Suddenly, the light that illuminated each party member, expanded below each person’s shoulders to reveal a sign that was placed on their chest. From Stevie’s right and around the circle, the signs read: ‘The Sycophant’, ‘The Silent’, ‘The Supremacist’, ‘The Militant’, ‘The Righteous’, ‘The Bystander’, and on her immediate left, ‘The Narcissist’.

She had no way of reading her own sign, but it didn’t take long for Stevie to learn what it said. The skin headed ‘Supremacist’ glared into Stevie’s eyes and asked, “So, how did our old friend trick you into joining us, ‘Samaritan’?” Before she could open her mouth though, ‘The Narcissist’ answered for her.

“I’m sure he appeared as some poor pathetic creature in need of assistance, and she just couldn’t help herself.”, Mike sneered. Stevie knew he had guessed correctly and said, “He seemed so innocent in his old khaki coat, the kind you would find in a surplus store. I…felt sorry for him.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right”, the Skinhead replied. “For me, he was the supreme leader I’d always hoped to meet one day. I would have followed his dynamic personality to the ultimate goal of superiority over all humanity.” Then he added quickly with venom in his voice, “No, I don’t mean you…Mike. You’ve proven you don’t have what it takes.”

The sharp rebuke shut down the dialogue. Everyone sat with their own thoughts for several minutes. ‘The Supremacist’ wasn’t interested in anyone else’s tale. Stevie’s mind was a whirlwind. “Why?”, she kept thinking. There has to be a reason for this, for me to be here.

“I’m so hungry”, ‘The Bystander’ moaned. “It must be days now since we’ve eaten.”

No one replied. They knew she was right, but they didn’t care to acknowledge hers or their own suffering. Forty-eight hours had passed since Stevie lost consciousness in the log cabin. Hunger was becoming everyone’s primary concern.

‘The Silent’ one suddenly broke into tears, and ‘The Righteous’ man tried his best to console her. It only served to bring a rain of vitriol from the other members.

The misery was almost too much for Stevie to endure. Gradually, some feeling began to return to the rest of her body. At first, she was relieved but then, the sudden realization hit everyone in the room at the same time.

Each of them was securely strapped to their chairs with their left hands bound behind their back. Their feet were also tied to the chair legs, and the right arm of each person was locked straight at the elbow, rendering it unable to bend. The harder any of them struggled to free themselves of their bondage, the tighter the binds became.

Frustrated, annoyed, and afraid, Stevie listened to the others' cries and complaints until suddenly, all the light in the room disappeared again.

Thanks for taking the time, and please stay tuned.

Liam Ireland Tree Langdon Terry Mansfield Phil Truman Agnes Laurens Britni Pepper Dr. Mehmet Yildiz