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Authors: Jeff VanderMeer

Finch by Jeff VanderMeer (21 page)

BOOK: Finch by Jeff VanderMeer
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"What is it?" Wyte asked.

"I don't know." And he didn't. Not really.

He started to read, hesitated, then began handing pages to Wyte
as he finished them. Wanted to say, "Don't share this with anyone."
Instead said, "Remember, Wyte, you told me not to protect you ..."

And, if you have made a deal with Stark, you'll just be feeding back to
him what he already knows ...

REPORT 2A-ATC-001

Originating Agents: Classified, pending investigation
Interrogation location: 22 East Lake Street
Transcription: Classified

Details:

* 14.3 minutes of a damaged 60-minute tape.

* Breaks in the tape--of unknown length--are
indicated in the transcript by "***."

* Brackets around a word or phrase indicate poor
sound quality and therefore doubts as to the actual
word or phrase.

* There are three voices on the tape, labeled Agent
#1, Agent #2, and Subject.

Agent #1: Is that thing turned on?

Agent #2: Of course it's fucking well turned on. It
might say something we need to remember.

Agent #1: Then remember it. Don't put it on tape...

Agent #2: No. I want it all on the tape. So we
don't [forget] ...

Agent #1: That Stark's orders?

Agent #2: What the hell is that?

(Sounds of a struggle, followed by labored
breathing. Tape turned off, then turned on again.)

Agent #2: Get ... that thing away from me.

Agent #1: Goddamn it they're tough bastards. Even I
forget sometimes. Okay, put it on the tape. Doesn't
really matter, does it?

Agent #2: You want to ask it the questions?

Subject: I will [answer] no questions.

Agent #1 or #2: Shut up.

(Loud slap. Sound of a chair falling down?)

Agent #2: Be careful. Be careful. It hasn't even
started talking yet.

Subject: Long and painful for you ... your insides
will explode, your lips and cheeks split open. Your
brains feed the birds.

Agent #1: Cheery fucker, isn't he? And they're all
like that.

Subject: I do not know the answer to your
questions. Your question sounds like a [question].
It does not sound like an answer. Do you have an
answer?

Agent #1: What were you doing when we caught you?
Simple question.

Agent #2: Oh, do it right. Do it right ... For the
record: Subject was intercepted and brought to this
location after stepping out of a strange door. Like a
secret panel or something, which closed up after him.

Agent #1: You stupid fucking mushroom. Answer the
question. Answer now and save yourself.

Agent #2: For the record, the Subject drew a symbol
on the table. In some sort of golden dust. Kind
of a half-circle then a circle then a line with
another line across it. Then two more half-circles
at the end. I'll draw it later.

Agent #1: More bullshit. Shove some more water into
it. Only thing that works.

(A sound like water being poured from a jug. Splashes.
Sounds of gasping. A cracking sound. A shriek. Silence
for a long time, but no cut in the tape.)

Agent #1: Can you hear [me]? I know you can hear me.
Subject: I hear [you]. [You will] all die. I will
myself see you afloat in the canal. Cultured. You are
not--

Agent #1: Just more water then.

Agent #2: It'll die.

Agent #1: Don't care.

Agent #2: Don't you think Stark should--

Agent #1: The hell with Stark. He's been here, what?
Three seconds?

Agent #2: Record shows [name redacted] authorized
additional water torture on the Subject.

Agent #1: Shut the fuck up and help with this.

(A gurgling, thrashing sound. Spluttering. Silence.)

Agent #1: Now, once again, where'd that door come
from?

Subject: ... been where you were not. But you'll never
read them. Not before we finish the towers.

Agent #1: What is behind the door?

Subject: Nothing for you. Too late.

Agent #2: Now I'm getting impatient with this. Maybe
this will help you. Remember.

(Long, prolonged scream. Not human.)

Subject: Don't do that again. Don't do that again.
Don't do that again. Don't--

Agent #2: He doesn't [know] what he means. I should
just kill him now.

Agent #1: Not yet. Not yet. Tell me, mushie, about
this gold. Where'd it come from?

(From here on, Subject's words are more garbled,
as if its mouth had been damaged. Accuracy of
transcript compromised.)

Subject: Not a [filo] left. Not one. What
[indecipherable] would take me like this?

Agent #2: What about the gold?

Subject: Yes, lots of gold there. Lots of gold other
places, too. Gold is everywhere. Gold and green.
The light, the water...

Agent #1: Do you mean the door? Or do you mean
real gold?

Agent #2: Should we start on his legs? Fucking
thing [smells] like shit. I think he's rotting.

Agent #1: Other places? What do you mean, other places?

Subject: Someday we will move other places but you
will still only be here.

Agent #2: Give it up. He's hallucinating.

Agent #1: Just wait. Mushie--tell me just a little
more, and maybe we'll let you go. Back underground
where it's safe. Would you like that?

Subject: No place is safe. For you.

Subject: No more. No more. You, maybe if you [know]
what it says there. Maybe you will not [indecipherable
gray cap word].

Agent #2: We'll let you go if you just tell us--what
is this weapon the rebels have?

Subject: [stream of gray cap swear words]

Agent #1: What about this address, then? The chapel
at 1829 Northwest Scarp Lane. This rebel safe
house. Ring a bell? Has it got something to do with
the weapon? Our sources say it has something to do
with the weapon.

Subject: Make me sleep. Burn me. Take me back to
where I was.

Agent #2: He doesn't know anything about it. That
much is clear.

Agent #1: Start on his legs.

(Prolonged screams.)

Agent #1 (panting): It's done. It's over.

Agent #2: Where do you think you're going?

Agent #1: He's not going to say anything else. If
he is still alive--and I doubt that--kill him and
throw him in a canal. No, wait, cut him up. Dump
him somewhere they won't find him for awhile.

Agent #2: And what the fuck will you be doing while
I'm doing [that]? That's going to take me a long

fucking time.

Agent #1: I've already got plans. And they don't
include waiting around here. We've gotten all we're
going to get.

Agent #2: You're staying. Stark's orders. I'm telling
you-

(Sounds of something heavy falling over.)

Agent #2: ... Not dead! It's got a hand free.

Agent #1: Shit. Get that other light on. Get it on
quick.

(Banging on the door. Calling out to some third agent.)

Agent #2: Open the fucking door! This isn't funny.
I don't see it now. It was here just a second ago.
Is it in the fireplace? Dammit, at least throw a gun
back in here. And unlock the fucking door. I can't
see a fucking thing.

Subject: But I can.

(Screaming for three minutes, then tape cuts off.)

BOOK: Finch by Jeff VanderMeer
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