The Hunter by TR Kohler

Author:TR Kohler [Kohler, TR]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-05-26T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-Six

John Lee Tam had no way of knowing how much time had elapsed. If he was forced to guess, he would imagine at least a day, though there was no way to be certain.

Not stuck in the timeless environment of his holding cell, the lights always on, no windows or doors to let in light, much less any clocks.

And definitely not while slipping in and out of consciousness, his body no match for the sheer amount of trauma it had been through.

The sequence had started with holy water. Forced down his throat, tossed across his skin, it had stripped away layers of flesh. A cross between a chemical burn and a blow torch, it had ignited every nerve ending in his body, lighting him up from within.

By the time that portion of things was over, his entire form was soaked. Sweat, blood, urine, every bodily fluid that could be excreted had, many times over.

Panting and exhausted, Tam had hovered on the border of consciousness, trying to fight off dehydration.

And that was before the man had gone to work with that damn knife of his.

Many times over the years, Tam had been cut. A man doesn’t live for more than a century, doesn’t grow up on the streets of Hong Kong or spend a career working in high-end antiquities, without the occasional slash.

While painful, occasionally bloody, never had he experienced anything like that.

Starting on the still-festering wounds left by the holy water, the man had peeled away the charred flesh one layer at a time. Working like an archeologist on a treasure find, he had scraped away one full cross-section of skin before moving on to the next one.

Each just as excruciating as the one before.

What it was he thought Tam knew could only be guessed at, the full extent of his knowledge expelled after being forced to drink the holy water. After that, he couldn’t tell if the man was actually looking for information, or just enjoying the process.

Still seated in the same metal chair in the middle of the room, Tam’s chin was against his chest. His shirt was still damp, the sealed air of the room already supersaturated, unable to absorb even another drop.

The scents of urine and excrement hung heavy, both soiling his boxer shorts, his bindings prohibiting him from going anywhere to relieve himself.

Not once in the preceding century had Tam regretted his decision. The life he led was far from perfect, and over the years he’d repeatedly wrestled with his conscience, but by and large, it was all worth it.

Each year was more exciting than the one before, the stretch of human and technological capabilities outstepping anything he could have ever imagined. Vividly he could recall once asking his parents if anybody had ever been to the moon, their response raucous laughter.

Now, that was an eventuality almost fifty years in the past.

To think what the coming days might hold.

Sitting in the brightly lit room, his body fighting for survival, for the first time he thought he no longer wanted to do it.

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