long, Steve weakened. Strength depleted, lungs starving for oxygen, he finally subsided, stopped fighting. The hands screwed tighter and tighter, and his vision blurred. He sucked at the precious air that was all around him, the plentiful air that was denied him.
A strange clarity came into his mind, and he realized that he was about to die.
Then, the hands released him.
Unexpectedly, the great pressure disappeared, and Steve ' s windpipe opened like a flue. Pitching his head back, sweeping his mouth wide open, he greedily vacuumed air into his lungs, gulping it in with shivering ferocity.
When he'd drawn enough breath to restore a small measure of awareness, he heard someone moving behind him. Weakly twisting his head to one side, he tried to see who was back there, but the chair blocked his view. Pinching his eyes shut, craning his terrified face toward the ceiling, he let out a beaten whimper.
Then, at last, he heard the voice of his torturer.
" How ' s it feel ? " asked the voice, a man ' s voice, quiet and steady.
" What ? " croaked Steve, grinding the word from his ravaged throat.
" Mercy, " said the man. " A second chance. How ' s it feel? "
" What do you want ? " cried Steve, tears pouring from his eyes.
The man chuckled, kicked the chair lightly. " What I want is what you took from me, " he said.
" What ? " rasped Steve. " What did I take? "
" My second chance, " said the man. " You took away what I just gave to you - a second chance. Ironic, isn ' t it? "
Overcome by searing surges of pain in his arms, Steve suddenly let loose an incredible scream. His bloody stumps quivered before him as he wailed to the heavens, pouring out a primitive song of agony.
Just as the scream peaked, the man ' s hands again closed around Steve ' s throat, digging into his windpipe. The scream was quickly aborted, reduced to feeble gagging.
" No more of that, " the man stated coolly as Steve choked and wriggled. " It ' s not that I ' m worried someone might hear you, because there ' s no one else on this whole damn mountain. It ' s just that I really don ' t appreciate interruptions when I ' m trying to talk. " Tightening his grip, he jerked Steve ' s head back, cracked it against the chair. " Do you understand? Shut up or I ' ll strangle you. "
The man again jolted Steve ' s skull against the back of the chair, then released his grip on Steve ' s throat. For a moment, the only sound was the victim ' s frantic gasping, his ragged, ravenous breathing.
" There, " said the man when Steve had begun to settle. " That ' s better. You ' re learning some manners. "
Panting, Steve bowed his head and stared down at his arms. Both were ablaze with excruciating pain, more pain than he'd ever felt in his life. The gauze in which the stumps were bound was growing a darker red, a deep copper; a sharp, sick chill rolled through him when he realized how much he was bleeding.
Steve started to scream again, but caught the cry in his throat.
" As you can see, " the man said calmly, a lilt of amusement in his voice, " I made a few changes while you were snoozing. Improvements, I call them. "
" Please, " sobbed Steve, snapping his eyes tightly shut. " Please, don ' t let me die. I ' ll give you...anything you want. "
The attacker sighed deeply. " I only wish you could, " he said wistfully. " That would sure save us both a lot of trouble. "
" Money ? " grated Steve. " You can...have it all. Thousands...upstairs...and my father will give you more. "
" Thanks anyway, " said the man, " but that ' s not really what I had in mind. "
" What do you want ? " moaned Steve.
" Redemption, " the man said softly. " Happiness. That second chance I was talking about. All the things you stole from me. "
" What did I steal ? " whimpered Steve.
" Everything, " said the man. " You stole my life. You sneaked up on me and took everything away. "
" What do you...think I...took ? " gnashed Steve.
" I ' m returning the favor, " the man told him, his voice
A strange clarity came into his mind, and he realized that he was about to die.
Then, the hands released him.
Unexpectedly, the great pressure disappeared, and Steve ' s windpipe opened like a flue. Pitching his head back, sweeping his mouth wide open, he greedily vacuumed air into his lungs, gulping it in with shivering ferocity.
When he'd drawn enough breath to restore a small measure of awareness, he heard someone moving behind him. Weakly twisting his head to one side, he tried to see who was back there, but the chair blocked his view. Pinching his eyes shut, craning his terrified face toward the ceiling, he let out a beaten whimper.
Then, at last, he heard the voice of his torturer.
" How ' s it feel ? " asked the voice, a man ' s voice, quiet and steady.
" What ? " croaked Steve, grinding the word from his ravaged throat.
" Mercy, " said the man. " A second chance. How ' s it feel? "
" What do you want ? " cried Steve, tears pouring from his eyes.
The man chuckled, kicked the chair lightly. " What I want is what you took from me, " he said.
" What ? " rasped Steve. " What did I take? "
" My second chance, " said the man. " You took away what I just gave to you - a second chance. Ironic, isn ' t it? "
Overcome by searing surges of pain in his arms, Steve suddenly let loose an incredible scream. His bloody stumps quivered before him as he wailed to the heavens, pouring out a primitive song of agony.
Just as the scream peaked, the man ' s hands again closed around Steve ' s throat, digging into his windpipe. The scream was quickly aborted, reduced to feeble gagging.
" No more of that, " the man stated coolly as Steve choked and wriggled. " It ' s not that I ' m worried someone might hear you, because there ' s no one else on this whole damn mountain. It ' s just that I really don ' t appreciate interruptions when I ' m trying to talk. " Tightening his grip, he jerked Steve ' s head back, cracked it against the chair. " Do you understand? Shut up or I ' ll strangle you. "
The man again jolted Steve ' s skull against the back of the chair, then released his grip on Steve ' s throat. For a moment, the only sound was the victim ' s frantic gasping, his ragged, ravenous breathing.
" There, " said the man when Steve had begun to settle. " That ' s better. You ' re learning some manners. "
Panting, Steve bowed his head and stared down at his arms. Both were ablaze with excruciating pain, more pain than he'd ever felt in his life. The gauze in which the stumps were bound was growing a darker red, a deep copper; a sharp, sick chill rolled through him when he realized how much he was bleeding.
Steve started to scream again, but caught the cry in his throat.
" As you can see, " the man said calmly, a lilt of amusement in his voice, " I made a few changes while you were snoozing. Improvements, I call them. "
" Please, " sobbed Steve, snapping his eyes tightly shut. " Please, don ' t let me die. I ' ll give you...anything you want. "
The attacker sighed deeply. " I only wish you could, " he said wistfully. " That would sure save us both a lot of trouble. "
" Money ? " grated Steve. " You can...have it all. Thousands...upstairs...and my father will give you more. "
" Thanks anyway, " said the man, " but that ' s not really what I had in mind. "
" What do you want ? " moaned Steve.
" Redemption, " the man said softly. " Happiness. That second chance I was talking about. All the things you stole from me. "
" What did I steal ? " whimpered Steve.
" Everything, " said the man. " You stole my life. You sneaked up on me and took everything away. "
" What do you...think I...took ? " gnashed Steve.
" I ' m returning the favor, " the man told him, his voice
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