3 minutes

3 minutes.

3 minutes more, that’s all Cal needed, 3 minutes more. This stuffy room was pulling at him, turning those minutes into hours. It was clawing at him, thrashing his soul side to side until he gave up. The one-sided glass was almost like a beacon to Cal, if he were to just stare at it, tell it what it wants, it would mean he gets to go home.

No, no, no. No home for me if I talk. Just wait.

3 minutes is all they need.

Cal looked at the clock on the wall. It said 3:14, but Cal wasn’t sure if it was night or day. It was probably a way to trick prisoners, to seemingly give them an edge of reality to grasp on, only for the ledge to wither away in their hands as they try to understand more.

The room was dark and empty, the lights were low and annoying. Cal could’ve sworn he saw a fly buzz around, but it was hard to tell. He thought that it landed on his left hand, so he tried to swat it away with his right hand until he felt nothing, and he remembered what happened.

Stupid stump hand. I could’ve just run, or ducked. Cal the coward they once called me, and now they’ll call me Cal the one-armed stupid coward. I should’ve never reached, never reached. Cal knew he had a good reason to even think of throwing that grenade back, but for the life of him, he couldn’t think of it. At the end of the day, all he had to do was take a folder from one place to another, and now for his failure, they were leaving him for dead.

No, no, no. They can’t leave me; I know too much. No, they think I know too much. Blind stupid Cal couldn’t even take care of them or himself.

3 minutes is all they need. Aziz is a bad president

It’s all I need.

The bandage was dry. When Cal first saw his hand, he nearly died of shock. It was a gross stump with a small bit of bone protruding. When they caught him, the doctors tried the best they could to help him, but they left the small bone just to keep Cal uncomfortable. The bandage was kept on ever since.

Rustic metallic sounds started moving, and the large iron door under the clock was opening. Its slow methodical approach grows louder and sharper. As the door opened, the lights burst open in the room, blinding Cal for the moment. Hearing the door move once again, Cal adjusted his eyes to see the man in front of him and the closed door behind the man.

The man looked near-exact 30, yet his hair was grey and balding in the shape of a bird. He had a small jaw and a distinct red birthmark on his left cheek. Cal never learned his name. All the torturers here used code names for their protection. This would usually be accompanied by a mask as well, but this man didn’t seem to want one.

Cal saw the man’s grin stretching from check to check as the words murmured from Cal’s lips. “Stun.”

“That’s me alright!” Replied the torturer as he sat down next to the table where Cal was cuffed. “I sure am happy to see you, Sergeant. You see, this is our last day together. Normally, the others you saw were sad and desperate. I meanwhile am quite happy.”

Cal sat in complete silence, slowly waiting.

Death will arrive in 4 minutes, I need 3, I’ll make it.

“Come on Cal, you used to be so much fun when you first arrived. I still have the tapes of your screaming. It really was a treat.”

Cal’s time in the hole was terrible. Beatings and humiliations were common. The first man was nice, he tried to befriend Cal, but it was obvious what the man was trying. So after a few days, he was dropped to a simple yet cruel muscular man. After Cal survived that for a few days, he was given to a small man with a large head who enjoyed seeing things get shocked. Now, Cal was starved and dehydrated, but he just needed to stay afloat. Just to wait long enough.

“Alright Cal, I’ll be honest, you are a lot quieter than most other people when they reach this stage. But then again, maybe you’re just too stupid to realize today is the day you die.” Said Stun as he began to unwrap the bandage

Cal squirmed and started to breathe heavier.

Calm down, Cal. Just 2 more minutes. Stun is slow and cruel; he’ll take much longer. Just 2 more minutes.

Stun then pulled out his briefcase onto the table. Opening it, he put on a pair of plastic gloves and started to pull out 3 plastic containers and small circular porcelain plates. Opening the containers, he poured each one into a single plate. Then, after he had finished, he organized them methodically and made sure they were perfect.

Taking a moment to admire his own work of setting up plates, Stun then stood up and moved back into the briefcase, pulling out pliers.

Cal started to pull back from the table. But the handcuffs were tight, eating into his arm and hand.

“Now, then. Most of the men who worked on you before were a bit dull. The dog thinks a fistfight gets people to talk, and the imp thinks that electricity works best for whatever reason. Tad, the first fellow you were with, is a bit strange, but even I admit sometimes it works. Would’ve been a lot better for you if it did work.” Stun gave a small chuckle.

“I, on the other hand, saw an opportunity when you came in, it's why that bone was left as it was. I have alcohol, salt, and glass, but if I don’t get what I want, I’m going to use the pliers.” Stun took two fingers and then rested them on Cal’s bone, moving up and down. Cal ground his teeth, trying to resist the pain.

“Please, don’t do this.” Said Cal. “You don’t have to…”

“You’re right, I don’t. So just tell me.” Replied Stun.

Cal looked defeatedly at him. He just couldn’t speak the words. Stun was bent forward towards Cal, face to face, waiting. After Cal said nothing, Stun jolted his head and then moved back.

He picked up the alcohol and then began to pour it over the wound.

Cal yelled and screamed. His arms were frantically waving. His arm was burning like hell, but he held on. After the first bit, he ground his teeth and held on, waiting for it to pass. After a while, he calmed, and the fiery pain began to subside.

Stun made a sour face. “Wow, you enjoyed that far less than I thought.” He leaned forward and cocked his head. “What was in the folder?”

Cal replied, “I don’t know, I never looked in it. A good soldier followed orders and I was ordered never to look.”

Stun shook his head and jolted it back. He reached for the salt and started to dab his fingers in it.

“No, please.” Cal could barely finish the sentence before the salt touched flesh. It ached, then burned, then hurt. The salt must’ve been doused in lemon or otherwise because the level of pain felt exhausting. Cal could barely stand by himself, closing his eyes and biting his tongue. Through teary eyes, he looked at the clock. 3:20

No, no, no. That isn’t right. No, no, no. Stupid, cowardly, and blind Cal. I can barely see it.

My God, they left me.

The pain decreased, yet it did not leave Cal. He breathed in and out, saliva pouring out of his mouth, and tears in his eyes.

Stun bent forward again, cocked his head again, and asked. “What was in the folder?”

Cal drooling for a second. Then, he answered. “Nothing, it was a fluke. It was a red herring. Nothing was in the folder, how else do you think you caught me? I don’t even know if they care that I’m dying.”

Stun twisted his head sideways, pointing his ear to Cal’s face, in case there was more. Then, he shook his head again, and jolted back up again, reaching for the glass.

Stupid Cal, know-nothing Cal, can’t-even-lie-to-live Cal.

Stun took some shards in his hand, dipped them in the alcohol, and then in the salt. Cal didn’t even have the strength to say no.

All Cal felt was fire. Fire and death slowly engulfing his body from his stump arm. Consuming him and devouring him. It felt like death and Cal could scarcely see anymore. His senses began to fade, and his world seemed brighter.

“Now, I’m going to do this, not because I have to, as you said, but because I think it’s your time, and it’s my prize after waiting for so long.” Pliers were floating in the air, and Cal could see his name written on them.

Cal’s hearing was shocked back into place. The sound of stone and broken glass filled his eardrums, and the blinding got worse for a moment. When his vision adjusted, Cal saw stun lying back on the table, with his eyes rolled back into his head.

Cal stood up before the cuffs on the table pulled him back down, and he saw men garbed in grey come through the hole in the wall. One grabbed hold of him, breaking the cuffs and taking him outside, murmuring “Right on time.”

Cal whispered back, “You’re late. 3:17, not 3:20. Not 3:20.”

The man pulled back his wrist and showed a watch.

3:17. Stupid Cal, dumb as a log.

But I did wait, I didn’t give up. I get to go home now.

Cal got into the vehicle and saw the men break the one-way glass, jumping in. before passing out.

I’m Cal, I’m no coward.