Women and Other Monsters Read Online Free PDF

from the asylum.  “Have a seat.  They asked me to tie you down.  Relax, it’s no big deal.  They just wanna see if you can escape again.”
     
    “I already told them I can’t.”
     
    The guard nodded politely as he pushed Scott into the chair and pulled a heavy strap across his chest.  He buckled the rest across Scott’s waist, arms and legs.  “They on good and tight?  Can you move?  Good.  Bring in the machine.”
     
    Squeaking wheels came down the hall and Scott managed to lift his head enough to see a hooded researcher pushing an electrical generator into the room.  It had a long wooden hand crank and multiple wires that connected to dozens of small suction cups, like a robotic octopus.  “What the hell is that?” Scott said. 
     
    “Hold still, partner,” the guard said.  He stuck a suction cup on Scott’s arm and then kept sticking them until they covered Scott’s chest, neck and face.  He yanked Scott’s underwear down to stick them between his thighs and onto his lower belly.  He stuck them to bottom of Scott’s feet.  Finally, the guard waved a wooden dowel over Scott’s face and said, “Bite this.”
     
    “Let me out!”
     
    “Bite it or you’ll chew your tongue off, stupid.”  
     
    The hooded researcher cleared his throat and said, “You are required to pay attention to this next part, Subject 129.  We are going to crank this generator and produce a significant electrical charge that will travel through these wires into your body via the suction cups.  I am afraid that the pain will be quite severe.  You may escape via teleportation at any time.” 
     
    “I can’t!” Scott shouted.  “I don’t know how to!  Let me out of this thing!”
     
    “Yes you do, Subject 129,” the researcher shouted.  “Stop wasting everyone’s time and do it.  No?  Fine.  Crank the handle.” 
     
    The guard grabbed the handle and started to turn it, making the generator whine until flashes of blue and white electrical current sparked inside the suction cups.  Scott screamed until his teeth crushed the wooden bit and one of the connections blew off of his chest.  Lights flickered inside the facility and the guard stopped turning the crank and wiped his brow as Scott clenched his eyes and whimpered and sobbed. 
     
    The researcher leaned over Scott and said, “That was nothing.  We are just getting started.  Are you ready to teleport?”
     
    “I can’t—”
     
    “Crank the handle.”
     
    The guard spun the crank and waves of searing current flew through wires all over again. 
     
    ***
     
    Subject 129 woke in his bunk hours later.  There was a thin manila envelope with a single sheet of paper inside sitting on the floor next to his bed.  He sat up and removed the paper, seeing the name James Scott typed across the top.  Place of Birth: Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.
     
    Place of Death: St. Quentin Canal.
     
    He turned the paper over in the dim light but there was nothing else.  He crumpled the page into a ball and tossed it across the room in disgust.  He collapsed on his bunk and screamed until he was out of breath. 
     
    The bullet holes in his chest were now jagged scars the size of quarters and Scott ran his fingers over them, playing with the ridges of raised skin.  He found another scar on his left hand that seemed older than the others.  It was a leftover reminder of a past he could not recover.  He wondered how it got there and what he’d been doing at the time.  He played with the scar, turning his hand over and over, when he saw the small ring of pale skin around his left ring finger.  The flesh was rubbed smooth there, like a man who’d worn a wedding ring and never took it off.
     
    There was a woman. 
     
    He saw her face.  Saw her smiling at him.  Crying to him.  Lying beside him sleeping.  He could see her eyes widen as they made love.  Feel her arms wrap tightly around the back of his neck, begging him not to enlist in the