Short Story Fiction Contest May 2014 | Page 223

“Boxes,” said Lux.

“Now see behind the curtain,” said the doctor. He flipped a switch and the panels covering the front of the compartments slid aside. Within each floated a quivering, pulsing human brain. Each suspended in a clear, viscous fluid.

“My nephew, Horace, was petulant. Careless. The Bureau connected him to some narcotraffickers. Or terrorists. Or both. Given our family’s prominence it’s easier for them to simply disappear him than bring him to trial.”

McDonald shoved Lux farther into the room, and to the right he saw an operating table beneath a bright light; a case of instruments next to a robotic lift.

“My gain. Such a specimen.” McDonald pointed to a similar crate, next to the operating table. “Addled, as I said, but still strong.”

He turned Lux and pushed him toward the table. All those abductions but the doctor had clearly never had to take on a victim at full strength.

Lux shrugged off the power in his right arm with a simple toggle. The bionic element went limp and in turn released his left arm. The doctor hesitated for a split second, surprised by the unexpected weight that suddenly rested in his hand. Lux stomped down quickly on his foot and then, knowing before it happened the doctor’s reaction, threw his head backward, landing it square against his face.