Performance Anomalies by Victor Robert Lee

Author:Victor Robert Lee [Lee, Victor Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Perimeter Six Press
Published: 2013-07-01T05:00:00+00:00

It was cool when Cono opened his eyes again, but his wrists and ankles were warm. He felt as if he were arched in a backward swan dive, looking up at a ceiling with fluorescent lights. There was a cold, hard surface under his back, and the chill of it against his shoulders and buttocks told him that he was naked. He moved, and found that his wrists and ankles were tightly bound, and that the surface underneath him was too small to support the full length of his body. His head draped off one end of what turned out to be a desk, and his legs were dangling off the other end toward the floor. He felt like a slab of meat on a butcher’s block.

Something brushed against his cheek and eased with greater pressure toward the corner of his lips. A knob wedged between his teeth and into his mouth. The taste was of oil and smoke. The knob went deeper until he was choking.

“It’s quite an old gun, but still very useful.” Zheng’s carefully cropped head was just a silhouette against the bright ceiling lights. The Makarov barrel was withdrawn with a snap, breaking off the point of one of Cono’s canines.

“So sorry,” Zheng cooed in Mandarin. “I don’t want to hurt you.” He stroked the tip of the gun against Cono’s cheek. “I want to help you. I want to help you out of this mess you’ve gotten yourself into.” Zheng’s voice was cool and smooth, like the gun muzzle that caressed Cono’s face.

Cono’s eyes rolled, trying to register the scene; he was still dazed in the aftermath of the seizure. Zheng’s features were coming into focus, but a pulsing pressure in Cono’s head made it hard for him to take in anything else. He thought he could make out two more cropped-hair silhouettes, one at each side. Were there others? He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

“Ah! You are thirsty. I forget my responsibilities as a host. Please, forgive me.” Zheng motioned to one of the silhouettes, who presented a glass. Zheng put down the gun, cradled Cono’s head in one hand, and with the other tipped the water glass carefully so Cono could drink. “Is that better, my friend?”

Cono swallowed repeatedly, but the water came too fast. He coughed and jerked his head away from Zheng’s hand.

“Thanks for the drowning,” Cono said groggily in Mandarin, looking around the room. “How can I help you, my friend?”

“Let me begin by saying that you are such an intriguing personality. I knew it the first day we met, so at ease, so charming. I don’t even know what to ask first. Maybe you can just talk to us, tell us what is on your mind, what attracts you to Almaty. You seem to have many friends here.”

“I’m attracted by the women. What attracts you to Almaty?”

Zheng sighed and paced from one end of Cono’s bound body to the other. He picked up the

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