Last Ranger by Craig Sargent

Author:Craig Sargent [SARGENT, CRAIG]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780446567312
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2009-09-25T14:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

Thirteen

IT could have been Frankenstein’s laboratory. Stone didn’t like the looks of the place the moment the guards dragged him roughly inside. The place had clearly been designed as a medical facility from the start, nothing makeshift about this. The walls were all stainless steel, glistening and mint. There were beeping life support systems, tubes and wires, operating tables, rows of scalpels and cutting implements, like a surgeon’s warehouse. The place had been built for the rich and powerful of America who had hoped to survive down here. They hadn’t, but their medical facility taking up an entire twenty thousand square foot level of the place had.

“Face forward, scum,” one of the guards screamed, slamming the butt of his weapon into the side of Stone’s head. Only because he was able to pull his head with the blow did Stone avoid a serious injury, but it hurt like a bitch and his eyes clouded up for a few seconds as if he’d been sniffing onions. When they cleared again he knew he was in trouble.

As they passed into a second operating room with five operating tables set up around the rounded, brilliantly lit chamber Stone saw that bodies were lying on each of them. And they had been cut up terribly, sliced into parts and then reattached with thick thread. He could see immense stitches around shoulders, elbows, knees, even a neck. War victims? Transplants? He could barely try to imagine what it all meant. But it was hideous, as if someone was cutting up human bodies like they were paper dolls to be twisted and mutilated.

All of them were in terrible agony, moaning and tossing their heads this way and that as if undergoing the most exquisite tortures imaginable. Clearly whatever was occurring here had been going on for a while. Some of the stitches looked many months old. And as he walked on, his eyes clearing a little more, Stone saw that it was worse than he had first realized. The limbs were all twisted around—elbows on backwards, knees pointed to the inside. Stone saw that one of the poor bastards had had breasts implanted onto him, another an extra arm that had been sewn to his abdomen. The groans of these had an extra element of suffering in them.

Stone thought he was going to puke. But even as he felt the bile rising he told his stomach that his head was going to get hit again for sure if he upchucked all over the nice green suits. And his head wouldn’t like that at all. His stomach subsided.

“Here, scum,” the guard behind him said as they entered another room. This one was as large as the operating chamber, but it contained electrical equipment, all kinds of implements that looked as if they could be used for torture. “Welcome to your little personal entertainment center,” the greenshirt laughed. Stone was led to a long stainless steel table that had no one on it. They pushed him into a

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