Dr. Neff
The farmhouse was quaint, the outside siding and lawn neatly kept. The black SUVs parked in the center of the driveway facing the road. They positioned themselves near the fencing which lined the gravel drive, blocking anyone from coming or leaving. The early dawn sun peeked over the roof of the home, leaking into the windows, destined to wake those within. But he would wake them first.
Dr. Neff exited his SUV as Collectors poured from the others, guns drawn, surrounding the house. He tightened his bullet proof vest so it fit snugly across his chest. The windows of the home remained dark and still. He moved behind his vehicle, keeping it between him and the house.
“We are ready when you are, sir,” the captain said. His all-black uniform was crisp and clean with no identifying marks of his name or rank. Over time, Dr. Neff had found it beneficial that all Collectors remain anonymous enforcers to the public. This instilled fear in the civilian population and made retribution against Collectors as individuals difficult. Fear was a far better motivator for compliance than loyalty based on likability.
“Proceed. Once you have them detained I will join you.” Dr. Neff waved his hand toward the house.
A crack splintered the air as a group of seven Collectors broke through the front door, splitting the wood of the paint-chipped frame. A similar crack rang from the other side of the home as another group broke through the back door. Screams erupted from the home. A single gunshot echoed from inside before all fell silent. Dr. Neff’s jaw knotted into fists, knuckles white. The front door opened and the captain waved. A smile spread across Dr. Neff’s face as he strolled through the door.
Tied to a wood chair sat Dave Wilton with a gunshot wound to his right shoulder. The bullet had exited Dave’s back and had clearly missed anything vital. He would not die from that wound. However, the fact that he was already injured and losing blood did not fit well into Dr. Neff’s plans. Sandra Wilton was being held by two burly Collectors, her eyes brimming with tears. Dave’s eyes locked on his wife.
“Zip tie Mrs. Wilton’s arms behind her back and have her kneel in front of her husband, please,” Dr. Neff said.
The Collectors did as they were told and Dr. Neff approached the crying woman from behind. He gently ran his hands across her head as if he were soothing a child. She shook her head trying to escape his touch and laid her head on her husband’s lap.
“I need one simple question answered, and once you do you are free to go. Where is Allison?” Dr. Neff asked. Dave spit toward him.
“I don’t care what you do to me,” Dave hissed. “You can kill me for all I care. I’m not telling you anything about Allison.”
“I do not intend on doing anything to you.” Dr. Neff grabbed Sandra by the hair, yanking her head from Dave’s lap. He held her tightly and with one fluid movement sliced her cheek open with a scalpel. She screamed with agony and dark blood flowed down her face.
“Sandra!” Dave threw his body toward the doctor, but Collectors reached out and held the chair so he couldn’t move. “You son of a bitch!”
Dr. Neff pulled back on her hair again, ripping pieces from her scalp as he ran his blade across her other cheek. Sandra’s entire body shook as she screamed. The front of her was covered in blood, tears, and snot. Dr. Neff petted her head again, still holding the scalpel in his hand, drops of her blood falling from it onto her hair, almost blending in with it.
“Shh. Just answer my question and this will all be over. Where is Allison?”
“Fuck you!” Sandra screamed.
Anger swelled up inside his chest and it took everything in him to not run his blade across her throat to finally quiet her. He pushed her face-first onto the floor and walked over to his medical bag. He pulled something from it and held it behind his back.
“Bring the table over and place it in front of Mr. Wilton. Lay Mrs. Wilton on it face-down please.”
Sandra thrashed as the Collectors placed her on the table. Dave struggled against his restraints but was met with a firm right hook to his jaw. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth and tears trailed down his cheeks. Sandra had one Collector each holding down her arms and another sitting across her legs. Her head turned to face her husband.
“Don’t tell him anything, Dave. No matter what they do. Don’t tell him anything!” Sandra pleaded.
“Sandy . . . Sandy . . .” Dave whimpered.
Dr. Neff went and stood near Sandra’s head. He brushed her hair from her face and wiped some blood from her face. He turned and looked at Dave.
“We can end this now. Where is Allison?” he asked.
The couple did not speak. A Collector from behind Dave reached around and dug his finger into Dave’s bullet wound. Dave cried out. Still the couple didn’t speak.
“Very well.” Dr. Neff pressed his palm flat against Sandra’s face and leaned all of his weight on it, sandwiching her face between him and the table. From behind his back he pulled out a wireless cauterizing tool. He set it just outside of Sandra’s view and held the scalpel in his hand before looking at Dave. Dave’s eyes were full of fear, but his mouth remained firmly closed. His chest heaved rapidly; he was nearly hyperventilating. Dr. Neff turned his attention back to Sandra. With one quick movement he ran his blade through her nose, severing half of it from her body. Blood gushed across the table. Sandra jerked against her captors and her shrill cry pierced the air.
“No!” Dave screamed and threw himself forward, but again he was met with a firm right hook that sent him and his chair falling over backward.
“I can’t
