A Whisper Breaks Through

CW: Profanity

The older man threw another log on the fire. The old cabin was warm enough where another log would have made it uncomfortable. Satisfied, he placed the poker back in its holder and sat in a chair a few feet from the hearth, the lump from the gun he carried on his hip only slightly noticeable. He sipped coffee as he gazed at the fire.

It wasn’t more than a few minutes later when one of the windows shattered, followed by another one. The older man instinctively threw himself on the ground and grabbed the gun he carried. He heard a thud on the wooden floor followed by a loud pop. Then came smoke and hissing. A smoke grenade.

The wooden door shattered open. “Get on the floor!” a voice commanded. 

Dark figures emerged from behind the smoke and rushed into the room. Red beams from weapon laser sights methodically darted around looking for a target.

“Chair!” one of the figures shouted. In a split second, six tiny dots danced around on the chair the older man sat in seconds ago.

Behind the chair, the older man laid prone on the floor, weapon ready. He counted out the pairs of feet he could see, which told him there were seven men in the room. One pair hung back, still in the doorframe. He weighed his options as he listened to the figures breathing through gas masks. He ignored the tears forming and the burn that had started in his throat and lungs.

The older man decided. He dropped the gun and put his hands and head down on the floor. “I’m down!” he announced.

“Don’t fucking move!” a voice shouted as the figures rushed in to where the older man laid. A second later the older man was in handcuffs and a hood shoved over his head.

Without another word, the crew of figures drug the older man out the splintered doorframe and into the cold night.

***

The older man stared holes into the one-way window a few feet in front of him, as if trying to make eye contact with someone on the other side. He looked down at the handcuffs on his wrists that were chained to a loop on the metal table he was seated at. He waited.

In addition to the one-way window, there was nothing else in the room but a metal table and two chairs, one of the chairs he sat in at the table. A door was only a few feet away. He scanned the floor to see if there was any blood from a previous interrogation and found none. He guessed government had taken him. The smoke grenades gave away that whoever had come, they wanted to talk. Otherwise, he’d be dead. He started to think about where could've slipped up. He came up blank.

The click of the door as it opened pulled the older man from his thoughts. His eyes followed a dark-skinned man in a gray suit enter the room and sit at the table. The older man watched the suit plop some folders down on the table. The suit remained quiet. 

Holy Shit, the older man thought.

The older man took in the suit seated across from him. Younger looking, full head of hair, average build, dark skin. The suit’s appearance jolted the older man, for a specific reason.

The suit reached out to the older man’s handcuffs. “No need for those,” the suit said as he unlocked the cuffs.

He even sounds like him, the older man told himself, internally jolted again at the man in front of him.

“Thanks,” the older man said, pulled back to the present moment.

The older man massaged his wrists after the cuffs were removed. 

“Can I get you some water? A beer, maybe?” the suit asked.

“A beer?” the older man asked, surprised.

“Why not?” the suit asked.

“Water is fine, thanks,” the older man said. A few moments later, another man entered the room and placed a bottled water on the table and left.

“What is it?” the suit asked as he noticed the older man’s quizzical look.

“You look like someone I knew, once,” the older man said.

“Who do I look like?”

“A friend. From another life,” the older man said.

“Well, we both know I’m not him. You can call me Joseph. It’s nice to finally meet you, Robert.”

Robert’s mouth dropped. Joseph caught the expression.

“What is it?” Joseph asked.

“The friend from another life. His name was Joseph. I called him Joe. I’m the only one he let call him that,” Robert said, his facial expression nostalgic.

Robert’s instincts screamed at him to compose himself. Internal walls flew up. Robert didn’t even realize his guard went down.

“Defenses back up, I see,” Joseph said as he seemed to notice Robert’s shift in composure. “I wonder if you’ll make this easy or difficult for us?”

“Most of the movies I’ve heard that line in, the guy in my seat gets tortured,” Robert said.

Joseph chuckled. “I’m not going to torture you. I’m just wondering how long you’ll hold out before you—” Joseph paused as he appeared to think what to say next –” are perceptive to our discussion.”

“I can make this quick and say I want a lawyer. You’d be off the hook tonight for the interrogation. Or today. I have no idea of the time,” Robert said.

Joseph glanced at his watch. “It’s 8:30am.”

“Are you just coming on shift, or were you awake when your guys grabbed me?” Robert asked.

“I was awake. I was there, actually. I wasn’t wearing the suit though,” Joseph said.

The feet in the doorway, Robert recalled.

“What makes you think you need a lawyer? I haven’t even told you why you’re here,” Joseph said.

“Why don’t you tell me why I’m here? Then I’ll see if I need a lawyer,” Robert said.

Joseph glanced down at the folders. Robert followed his look.

“And what are those?” Robert asked as he nodded to the folders.

Joseph sighed. “You’re going to drag this out, aren’t you,” he said. “You know what those are. We’re just talking right now. Tell you what. I’ll give you complete amnesty that whatever you say, it will not be used to incriminate you. But I assure you, that won’t be necessary. Hopefully you see soon, none of this is.”

Robert smirked. “Yeah, so I can say what you want me to say, then you get what you want. Just read me my rights and go home.”

Ignoring Robert’s comment, Joseph turned around. “Can you bring the forms in please,” he said to the window.

Moments later, the man who had brought the water earlier entered the room holding two pieces of paper. He placed both on the table and left. 

“These forms say whatever you tell me right now is off the record,” Joseph said. As in can’t be used against you. I sign one, you sign one. And it’s all recorded in video,” Robert said as he nodded towards the one-way window behind him. “You can say whatever you want, and nothing can happen to you.”

“What is this?” Robert asked.

“I just want to talk with you. I’ve been looking for you a long time. If I can’t talk with you now, I probably won’t get another chance.”

“Oh, so you’re the good cop. If I don’t talk to you, the bad cop will come in,” Robert said.

“I promise, it’s just me. And those forms, you sign, and I sign,” Joseph said as he nodded at the forms in front of Robert. “For your piece of mind.”

Robert laughed at the comment. “What kind of operation is this?”

“I told you. I’ve been looking for you for a long time. I just want to talk with you,” Joseph said.

“Fuck it,” Robert said with finality. He signed the forms and slid them to Joseph. Joseph signed the forms and slid one back to Robert.

“Can we chat now?” Joseph asked. 

“Those folders I am guessing are people that I have allegedly killed.”

“Why did you allegedly kill them?” Joseph asked.

Robert nodded at the comment. “Because they killed people.”

“Did they kill people allegedly? Or did they kill people?”

“Oh, they killed people.”

“I don’t have folders for the others you have killed, do I?” Joseph asked.

Robert paused at that. “You don’t. Allegedly.”

“But they didn’t kill people on purpose. They made mistakes, and people died because of their mistakes. They were just normal people. Some of them even had families,” Joseph said. 

“Families that could never look at them the same after what they did,” Robert said. “I did those families a favor.”

“But their actions that caused death, still mistakes,” Joseph said.

“They fucking killed people!” Robert shouted.

“And how did they kill them?” Joseph asked. He didn’t flinch at the outburst.

“Why don’t you tell me?” Robert asked.

“Well, let’s take a look at the files,” Joseph said as he picked up one of the folders. “Vincent Harrison. Killed a family. Drunk driving. Drove home shitfaced from a party and plowed into a family driving home, right after picking Dad up from the airport. Served some time in prison for it.”

Joseph picked up the other folder. “Rebecca Hafner. Too many drinks at a friend’s house. Fell asleep at the wheel driving home. Swerved and—”

“I know who she fucking killed,” Robert interrupted. “Both those assholes, their prison time wasn’t near what it should’ve been.”

“I’m not here to debate the morality of vigilantism. I agree with you, in fact. I’m glad you killed them. To know they’re dead and won’t kill anyone else,” Joseph said. 

Robert studied Joseph. “Pretty sure an FBI agent isn’t supposed to say that,” he said.

“Who said I was FBI?”

“Those kills were in different states, which is why I say FBI. If you’re not FBI, whose shit is this?” Robert asked as he waved his hand around the room.

“I work for you, Robert. It’s important you know that. What’s also important is why you killed those people--" Joseph pointed to the folders "--and why you killed all the others,” Joseph said. “Did it make you feel better? Did it give you closure?”

“They deserved to die. They knew the risks of what they did. Cheap fuckers wanted to have a good time and not pay for an Uber. They’re a fucking drain on society,” Robert said. “And yes, I felt better each time.”

“I agree with you,” Joseph said.

“You keep saying that. I don’t know if it’s just because you’re off the record, or you’re setting me up for something,” Robert said. “And you still haven’t told me what agency you are. Homeland Security?” 

“As I said, I work for you, Robert. Tell me something. There are thousands of people that kill other people intentionally. Why not kill them? Why do you target the people you do?”

“Because…” Robert stopped talking. His expression looked pained.

“Robert, tell me why you don’t target killers. But I already know the answer. I want to hear you say it,” Joseph said.

Robert paused. He calculated how far he should let the conversation go. He sensed there was something else going on with the questions, but he couldn’t pinpoint it.

“I’m done,” Robert said.

“You’re done? Just when this was getting good,” Joseph said.

“None if this makes sense. I’ve basically admitted to killing those people,” Robert said as he nodded at the folders. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Now, turn the recording back on so I can tell you I want a lawyer and fuck off.”

Joseph's face turned rigid.

“I know a drunk driver hit you one night as you were driving back late from the store,” Joseph said. “Your daughter was with you. She was killed in that accident, wasn’t she? You watched her die, held her in your arms until her last breath. That’s what you remember, isn’t it?”

“How the fuck do you know that! What kind of fucking game is this?” Robert yelled as he slammed his fists down on the table.

“I know because I was there,” Joseph said.

Joseph’s comment put Robert’s head spinning. Joseph dug in.

“Robert, tell me, do you really believe that you’re some ghost vigilante that hasn’t been caught in decades?” Joseph asked. “A normal guy, who manages a hardware store, just suddenly becomes an invisible killer? How, and where did you learn those skills to do that? Where do you get the money? How did you get the cabin you hide in?”

Robert’s face washed over with confusion. “I…I…I,” he stammered. His hands trembled.

“Robert, you already know the answer. You created this,” Joseph said as he waved his hand around. “You created a revenge fantasy to cope. But you don’t have to.” 

“What are you fucking talking about?” Robert yelled.

Joseph didn’t say anything. He looked at Robert as if trying to guess what number Robert was thinking.

“What!” Robert shouted.

“Robert, you’re in a coma. Right now. In a hospital bed. And…Julie is alive.”

Robert’s face contorted. Bewilderment.

“What the fuck are you talking about!” Robert roared, as spit flew from his mouth.

“When you were hit, you and your daughter, Julie, were both injured. You, a head injury. Julie, a week in the ICU with a punctured lung and a concussion,” Joseph said. She left the hospital a month later.”

Joseph let the words hang in the air for a moment before he continued.

“I watched her die!” Robert cried as he shot up from the chair.

“You’re fucking with my head! Who are you!”

“I’m you, Robert. I’m the whisper in your mind that has been trying to bring you back for years. Your mind fractured, with me as the piece that held on to reality. You were too afraid to face what you thought was reality. You created a world, locked me out, and I had to find a weakness to break back in and make you listen to me. I finally did. Your mind imagined it as the raid. I look like Joseph to get a connection to you. A connection to reason break down the wall and bring you back. It’s the last chance we have!”

“You’re full of shit! Why would I make all this up!” Robert yelled as he pointed at Joseph, who remained seated.

“Stop for a moment. Feel this place. You know I’m right,” Joseph said. “You’ve known, for what you have imagined as a lifetime, that something has been off. You reach back and try to remember, but everything is always on the tip of your tongue. And nothing ever comes. It’s because it’s been a lifetime that wasn’t real. But you can make the choice to come back.”

Robert’s face twisted. He’s right. He looked around the room in panic, trying to latch on to something to anchor him against the wave of emotion that flooded his core. Tears formed in his eyes. He stared back at Joseph as if he was pleading for mercy. This is not….

“This is not real. Julie…is alive,” Robert wailed.

“Yes,” Joseph said, visibly relieved. “And she visits you, along with Erica. I’ve heard them talking to you. Talking to us.”

Robert hung his head and whimpered his daughter and wife’s name.

“If you’re fucking wrong about this!” he sneered as his head shot back up to face Joseph.

“I’m not,” Joseph said. “And I know you’ve heard her voice too. And Erica’s. But you thought you were dreaming, didn’t you? When you slept in the cabin. Your safe place from the chaos you created. A place to escape the very thing you created to escape.”

“What if you’re wrong!” Robert shouted. “If you are, you know what that will do to me. I can’t go through it again; it will destroy me!”

“I’m not wrong,” Joseph said firmly.

Robert hung his head again as he stretched out his arms on the table.

“How long?” he groaned.

“How long for what?” Joseph asked.

“How long has it been? How long have I been in the coma?”

“I heard a nurse talking to someone about us. They said we’ve been here for a few months,” Joseph said. “I don’t know how long ago that was, though. Time is different here. What years are here could be hours out there.”

“Thirty-two years, four months, five days since she died. Since I imagined she died. I’m sixty-two. Which means when we wake up--”

“We’ll be thirty-one,” Joseph said. “Wild, right?”

Robert raised his head up to face Joseph. “I don’t even know what to think. What to do,” he said.

The room flickered, complete darkness for a second. Joseph and Robert both looked around, then at each other.

“I think you’re doing it!” Joseph shouted.

“Doing what?” Robert asked.

“Believing. Waking up.”

Another flicker. Distant voices now.

“Do you hear them?” Joseph asked.

“The voices,” Robert said.

“Yeah, the nurses probably see you stirring. Or whatever it is you’re doing trying to wake up.”

Robert’s face beamed at Joseph; tears flowed, now void of pain and loss. 

“Yes, I heard her too,” Joseph gasped. “They’re in the room with us! Talk about perfect timing, right?”

Blackness. Joseph and the room vanished. Another flicker, then blinding light. Voices sounded muffled as if underwater, then clear. They called out Robert’s name. The light’s intensity lessoned, then images appeared. Images became people with faces. Faces with broad smiles and tears.

Robert saw Julie and Erica standing next to his bed and felt their hands holding each of his. Joyful tears swelled for a father and a husband.

You were right, Joseph! We made it! Thank you!

The whisper that had become a part Robert’s thoughts was gone.

Joseph?

There was no response.