"Next" by Jessica M. Jordan

Next

by: Jessica Michelle Jordan

Rob sighed as he looked over the latest assignments. He had been put in charge of prisoner punishment and discipline. He had never agreed with the treatment that the war criminals were given. Rob shook his head as he walked toward the basement section of the building. The building had been originally intended as a punishment facility, and was still used for that purpose at times. The buildings had no stairs, but instead ramps that helped the medium sized wooden carts, used for transporting bodies and people too injured to walk, to get around. The cells occupied the two lowest floors of the structure, which extended four floors below the ground.

Rob nodded to the guard that stood at the opening to the lowest level and then stood against the wall to allow one of the "Body Carts," as they had been affectionately named, to get past. There were five bodies there. Two women, two men, and one teenaged boy. The only way he could determine the gender of the poor souls was the tatters of clothes that remained on the mutilated bodies. One of the men had been an important person somewhere, expensive clothing clung to his unrecognizable frame. He had also done something exceedingly awful to Rob's government, judging by the wounds. He had been "hooked." Hooking was the practice that the especially cold cell guards gave hard to handle prisoners. The punishment consisted of an apparatus that looked surprisingly like a large fishing hook. It was inserted into the body at the shoulders or hips, and then drug down the length of the arms and/or legs. The flesh was ripped open and the muscles were torn apart. The person was usually still alive for a few minutes before he/she died of blood loss, which gave the guards license to administer further atrocities. This particular man had been relieved of his private parts, no doubt they were now nailed to the wall of cell corridor. His hair had been cut close to his head and then it looked like a jagged dagger had been used to shave the scalp. Rob looked away from the cart, but not before catching a glance of the eyeless teenaged boy.

The guards didn't take too kindly to Rob. He was soft on the criminals. Consequently, the prisoners loved him. There were cheers as he walked down a cell corridor to get to the Chamber of Punishment. He hung his coat on one of the hooks near the door and climbed the only staircase in the entire structure. The staircase consisted of only five steps and led to a abnormally clean landing from which he was to watch the punishments. Rob looked down at the main floor of the Chamber and shook his head.

The room's floor was dyed a reddish brown from all the dried blood that had been spilt upon it. No matter how hard the staff tried, they couldn't rid the floor of the color. There were numerous hideous machine looking things and tables, half of which Rob didn't know the names. One was the Hooker. He frowned when he saw that it still had a fragment of muscle hanging from it. He sat down in the only chair on the landing and pulled the notebook off a nearby table onto his lap. He opened it to the that day's date and looked to the guard on duty. He sighed and spoke the first of many such words for the day. "Next."