TITLE: Hole, Inc.
Young man finds himself entrapped in a secretive organization, knowing just enough to be a danger to them. He confronts one of the leaders.
And just like that I no longer felt cold, or wet, or curious. A quick, suffocating fury stoppered my ears, clamped my jaw shut with such force that a hot zigzag of pain shot straight up my face. I spun and was on him with all my weight, four years of high-school wrestling nowhere near forgotten, knocking him off his feet, onto his back, his head cracking against the doorframe.
Whether my hands were still numb and wet, or my anger skewed my aim, he managed to twist away, though not until I gave him a few heavy pummels to the kidneys and one to his ear.
He rolled to the side and shut the door, and as I bolted to my feet, ready to lunge again, he landed a solid punch to my temple. I crashed obediently to my knees, and only anger kept me from lying down on the rug and letting the black rush claim me. But I waited it out, waited for the booming in my ears to quieten, the darkness before my eyes to brighten, for reason to coalesce again. And he waited with me, as indifferent as a stone carving.
“I want to go home,” I said, fighting down nausea.
“Out of the question,” he said.
“I don’t even know what you are, I don’t know what you do. Let me go now before I find out more.”
“Out of the question.”
@!?* if I was going to continue this on my knees. I reached toward the wall and pressed my palm against it. Using that as support, I rose to my full height, swallowed down more bile.