The Boomerang Factory Parts 1-9

The Boomerang Factory. Part 1 - The Box

That noise. I’ve heard it somewhere before. I’m sure I have. The strange allure of the soft melody. Mixing with the hypnotic charm of that haunting voice…circling around in my head…beckoning me……but who? And where……?

I sat bolt upright and opened my eyes. My head hurt. How long had I been asleep? Hours? Days? That song. I couldn’t remember if I had made out any words or phrases amidst the gentle opera. Just the eerie orchestral echo…and the light…the blinding light…growing brighter and brighter as the ghost symphony reached its almighty crescendo. What on earth had happened?

As my eyes slowly readjusted to the light I realised I had no idea where I was, and how I had got there. What had happened last night? Drink? Drugs? Whatever it was it had knocked the life right out of me, and I had ended up here. Where was I?

The room I had woken up in was bare. And I don’t mean it was conservatively furnished. It was completely empty. Dead. Four pure, pale white walls, immaculate and reaching all the way up to the high ceiling, which itself was also as white and pristine as you could imagine. In the middle of the wall opposite the one which I was slouched against was a massive oak door, like one that would lead into the great hall of a castle – before the great feast or something like that. As I struggled to my feet to see if I could open the door, forcing my dormant muscles to spasm into action, I noticed it. Just out of the corner of my eye. The Box.

A neat little square parcel, innocently sitting in the corner of the room to my right hand side. Enveloped in shiny gold wrapping paper with a big red bow with no name tag or card beside it. Was it for me? Maybe I should try the door first. Just to see if anyone else was home. Don’t want to go snooping around through someone else’s things.

The noise of my footsteps echoed like a volley from a gun in an auditorium as I made my way towards the door. As I grabbed the big gold handle I read the engraving on it. P.o.G. Someone’s initials? I didn’t know anyone with those initials, not that I could remember anyway. Maybe I’d got lucky last night with some stunning rich blonde; that would explain the aching muscles, the need for three initials, and the massive spotless chamber that I had woken up to find myself in. Then again…there wasn’t a bed, or any furniture for that matter. What sort of human being would leave someone in the shape I was alone in a room like this? I gave a sharp tug on the handle of the heavy door. No movement at all. I tried again, applying a little more force. Nothing. What the hell was going on here? Okay, don’t panic. Maybe there was a party last night, and forgetting that I was in here someone had locked the door. I banged the bottom of my closed left fist on the centre of the door as hard as I could. Three times. No answer. Maybe everyone had gone out. Yeah. That’s what happened. They’ll be back soon. Maybe I’ll sit back on against the wall beside the door and have another quick recovery nap until they return.

**************

When I woke nothing had changed. The door was still locked, my shouts were proving futile, and it didn’t look like anyone was coming back soon. I couldn’t even tell if it was night or day due to the strange lack of windows in the room that was slowly becoming my own personal tomb. I had absolutely no idea what time it was - then struck me. It was gone. It was all gone. My keys, my wallet, my phone and my watch. Pretty much everything except for my clothes.

I decided that was it. If someone was going to lock me in a room, remove all my possessions, and not offer me any explanation, then by all means I was entitled to open their box. But then again. Maybe I shouldn’t. Who knows what I’ll find? There could be anything in that box. But what the hell. I was beginning to get hugely irritated and confused. Just what was going on here? And where the hell had everyone gone?

I pulled on the red bow and unravelled it, allowing me to unpeel the perfectly folded gold paper. Underneath was a solid wooden box. As plain as you can imagine. No markings or distinguishable features other than a silver hinge. As I sat in the corner and prepared to open the lid of the little wooden box I obsessed about what I was going to find in it. I’ve seen those films. It was going to be a severed finger, or a grizzly Polaroid, or something else inconceivably morbid, scaring me instantly to death in this very spot. Of course, what I was hoping, and secretly expecting to find was a key - and more hopefully yet - a big gold key that was going to open the large sturdy door that was keeping me from leaving this room. I took a deep breath, and decided to do it. But nothing in this world could have prepared me for what I did find in the box.

2. Rory

…..I dropped the box on the floor and let in break into two pieces. It was completely empty? What was going on here? Was someone playing some sort of game with me? What was I supposed to do now? No key, no windows and no way of getting out of this room. I rested one of my hands against each wall in the corner of the room that had contained the box and banged my head in frustration. How was I going to get out of this one?

“So you’re here at last. How was the trip. Seasick?”

I was so startled by the voice that came from behind me that nearly jumped out of my skin. I spun to confront the owner of the voice, who I assume had finally heard me and unlocked the door. Eventually. As I turned to face him I noticed that the door was still locked. He must’ve crept in when I was busy with the box and locked it again behind him. His manner and his posture certainly weren't of an aggressive nature, which relieved me, but as I studied his face I definitely knew I had seen him somewhere before. I just couldn't pin down exactly where.

“Hi Paul. I’m Rory…I work here…I’ve heard so much about you. I feel like I know you so well. It’s great to finally meet you.”

He stepped forward and extended one of his massive hands for me to shake. Paul. He called me Paul. How did he know that was my real name? No-one had called me that since I left school about ten years ago. But that wasn’t where I new him from, it was definitely something more recent than that. I was so shocked by what was going on that I could barely answer him. My heart was still racing from the initial scare and all I wanted to know was that I was safe.

“Um…Hi Rory. Can I be rude and ask? What is going on? Where am I? How did I get here, and how do you know my name?” I stared at him as he stood there with his hand still extended, still smiling at me.

“Come on Paul, You know who I am, besides, we have more than enough time for all of that. Let’s go. It’ll be last orders soon.”

As he said the last phrase he smiled again, his eyes constantly locked onto mine and never moving. I definitely knew this guy, but it was just one of those times when you totally can’t remember where from. His eerie calmness was beginning to make me feel uneasy and as he held his stare I realised it was his eyes that I recognised the most. And his mouth - but only when he smiled. But it didn’t add up. It was almost as if the eyes reminded me of one person, and the mouth another.

Rory held his stare – and his smile – for as long as I could stand and look into his eyes. Then all of a sudden he turned on his heels and started towards the door. “Right Paul, the key”

I continued to stare at him. What was this charade all about? He knew that I didn’t have the key, was he teasing me? “Um…I don’t have the key. You must have it, you came in.”.

He smiled that eerie smile at me again. “Check your pocket Paul.”

I put my hand in my pocket and pulled out the key. It had the letters P.o.G. engraved on it, just like the heavy handle on the door. I was sure it wasn’t there in my pocket before. Positive. I was starting to get really confused by it all. I really had no idea what was happening to me and whether or not this was real.

“Come on Paul.”, he smiled “We’ve so much to do...lets go.”

3. Out At Last

I didn’t expect anything. Not any more. I didn’t expect to leave the room. The key was probably just the next stage of this twisted game. I still had no idea what was going on, and why this was happening. Was it a dream, or a nightmare? Was I still high from the drugs I’d taken? That was the last thing I could remember…but then again, that was nothing out of the ordinary. It happened all the time…

**********************

“Come on Sharky, lets do another couple. These are shit. I’m not feeling anything at all.”

“Give them a chance Gary, they’ll kick in soon.”

“Don’t be a pussy. Take these. And let’s go out and get fucked up. You in Sharky? I said Are-You-In?!”

“Yeah, but we don’t want a repeat of what happened in America, do we?”

“That was years ago man, come on, let’s forget about it, take these drugs, and go have us some good times. Besides, we got away with that. Those fuckers didn’t have a clue.”

***********************

Sharky. That’s what they used to call me. On the ‘outside’. Everyone. My parents, my girlfriend, people at work, in the pub, everywhere. Hardly anyone knew my real name, and hardly anyone ever asked. That’s what troubled me. How did he know? Rory. The strange, smiling man. I turned to my left and looked at him to see if he was preparing another surprise. Rooms, keys, doors and boxes. I was getting tired of this already, and I just wanted to know what was going on. Rory was still just stood there smiling, and staring at me. Like he hadn’t moved a muscle since his last utterance.

“Come on then Paul, are you going to open the door? Or are we going to stay here all day?” Rory seemed to speak the whole sentence without moving a single muscle, and without cracking the smile on his familiar face.

“Look pal. Can you tell me what the hell is going on here?” I had raised my voice for the first time and it echoed around the empty room, bouncing off the bare white walls, and reverberating louder and louder.

“Don’t raise your voice Paul. You don’t want Pa to hear you. You really don’t want Pa to hear you. You’ve already opened the box, Paul. Don’t make it worse for your self.” Rory’s smile seemed to grow towards the end of the sentence, and his voice followed the path of mine around the room before hitting me in the face.

I froze on the spot. Shaking inside. I couldn’t believe the words I’d heard him say. You’ve already opened the box, Paul. Don’t make it worse for yourself. What did that mean, and who was Pa? I was beginning to fear for my life. What sort of crazy place had I ended up in. If I was going to die, which by this point I was sure I was, all I wanted before I did was a nice cold beer. To ease the pain and relax me a bit. A nice cool amber pint of beer. Down the pub with the lads.

“Come on then Paul.” Rory interrupted my brief escape from the funhouse… “You really have to open the door. As I said. We have so much to do Paul.”

I turned from him. I couldn’t take anymore. I wanted out. Now. I grabbed the key from my pocket again. P.o.G. What did that mean? Nevermind, here goes. I put the gold key in the lock and turned it anticlockwise. As I said, I didn’t expect anything. Before I’d even turned a quarter turn the door swung open, and I was amazed by what I saw in front of my eyes.

I stared in front of me. The shiniest, cleanest, trendiest looking bar I’ve ever seen. Pure heaven. I couldn’t believe it. It was surely all an elaborate hoax, some bizarre belated birthday prank. Like in The Game with Michael Douglas. I turned to thank Rory. My faithful host. He was gone. Vanished. Into thin air...

4. The Bar

The door behind me was firmly locked again. Where had Rory gone? People don't just disappear. As weird as it all was, all I wanted was a drink from the bar. As I slowly stepped forward into the centre of the massive silver bar, I half expected all my friends and family to leap out from behind the large metal columns that stretched all the way up to the high ceiling. They didn’t. The bar was empty. Completely dead.

“Hello……Is anyone there?”

There was no response. I had a terrible feeling in my stomach. Foreboding. I just wanted to get out of here and go home. Failing that, all I wanted was a nice cold pint, and then the bastards could do whatever they wanted with me. As I stepped towards the large metallic bar I let the aureole of light from the large spot lamp in the middle of the ceiling reveal the rest of the room to me. The entire room was furnished with large tables and stools, all bolted to the floor, and all bearing the strange P.o.G. branding. I also noticed that each item of furniture was fashioned from the same gleaming metal as the bar itself, along with the four mirrored walls which enclosed me.

“Hi…Hello…Can anyone hear me…..”

Once again I heard my voice echo around the room before returning back to me. Unanswered. I suddenly remembered the words the Rory had spoke immediately before we had left my ‘cell’. I’d better not let Pa hear me. Just in case. Christ…Now I had started playing along with whatever demented game I had been unwillingly placed in.

I wandered around the empty bar for five or ten minutes, studying the furniture, the décor. There was not a single sign of life in the entire place; the smooth silver surfaces were all perfectly clean and sterile, as if no living thing had ever come into contact with them. Other than the one that led into the room I had woken up to find myself in, there were no other doors leading to or from the bar. Was I being made to wait again? Who were these people?

Suddenly I heard a noise behind the bar and spun on my heels to see Rory, this time dressed all in black, polishing glasses behind the bar. His meticulous scrutiny of every one seemed bizarre to me…they were all perfectly clean, yet the strange little man continued polish and examine every single one of them.

I walked up to the bar. “Rory. What’s going on?”

The man looked up and spoke. “Who is Rory, Paul?”

I was beginning to lose my patience, as well as the remaining threads of my sanity. “You are. Now stop messing around and tell me what the meaning of all this is.”

“Ah Paul. I’ve heard so much about you. And to be honest…. I’m really not disappointed. You are exactly what I expected. Now…what are we going to do with you Paul?” The man spoke in the same strange tone as Rory, and looked exactly like him…but the eerie smile that had made me feel so uneasy before had been replaced by a dejected frown.

My body began to shake furiously as I heard the words. I couldn’t muster up a reply. I just stood there staring at the man in petrified disbelief. He had turned me to stone with his words.

“Sorry Paul. How rude. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Tug. Would you like a drink Paul?” The man held a pint glass up to the light and inspected it once more. Using his immaculate white cloth to polish it for the fourth or fifth time.

“Um….Yeah.” It was the first time since I had rose to find myself in this place that someone had made such a generous gesture. I could only accept.

“Ok Paul. This one is free, but you have to pay for the rest.” As he said the words it was almost as if he smiled, in a manner similar to that of Rory, but without moving his mouth or breaking his frown. “Nothing comes for free here Paul.”

“But my money, my belongings…. How am I supposed to pay for them?” Great. I was being manipulated, and probably killed, and now I was being told that the only small redeeming feature of this institute was above my means.

“I’m sure you’ll find a way Paul. Now drink up. Closing time soon.” Tug turned his back on me and began to frantically wipe down the perfectly pristine surfaces behind the bar.

“Wait….Closing time?” I asked. “Then, where do I go?”

The man froze still, looked up and caught my eye in the mirror behind the bar.

“Why Paul….you’ll just go through the door….” He paused and gestured towards the door that I had used to enter the room. “…like everybody else does. You know Paul, this is the busiest bar in all of the land.”

I looked at him. What was he talking about? Things were making even less sense than they had been earlier. Tug, Rory…the strange brothers. And Pa. Lets not forget Pa. “And how do you suppose, Tug, that I go through a locked door? Anyway…” I said “…there is no way I’m going back into that room. No way.”

“Come on Paul. The door is open.” I looked behind me, and true enough the door was lying wide open. “Whether you bar this room or not is your decision. Just like opening the box. I would say it is in your interest to leave. But be careful Paul. You don’t want Pa to hear about this. Goodnight Paul”

That was it. I had taken just about enough of this. I wanted answers I turned again to face Tug, but he was gone. I jogged round to the other side of the bar, to see if he was crouching behind it in an attempt to trick me….but there was no-one there. There really was no explanation for how this could have happened. As I said. People don’t just disappear.

People don’t just disappear……

I was beginning to feel very tired and weak, and having already met two of the residents of this insane place I decided I had better return to the room. Pa didn’t sound like someone I really wanted to meet, and at least in the little room there was nowhere at all for anyone to hide or appear from. As I crossed the bar and prepared to enter the room again I realised I still had the key in my pocket. Rory had forgotten to remove it. As I shut the heavy door behind me I turned it in the lock. Safe. For now.

I leaned face first against the door for a few minutes. I was going to lose my mind, or maybe I already had. I honestly had no idea what was happening, and it seemed that before things became more clear they were going to get a lot more cloudy. Maybe I should lie down on the floor and get some sleep.

As I lifted my head from against the oak door and turned to face the room I was greeted with yet another surprise. A bed. In the corner of the room. Not a large bed. Maybe a kid’s single bed. But how did it get there? There was no entrance or exit to the room other than the bar….and in the same way there was no way of leaving the bar other than the door to the room.

My head hurt from all the confusion, and I needed to sleep. The last thing I remember before passing out on the bed was the print on the duvet cover. In the smallest black letters on the white fabric. Those initials. Repeated again and again. P.o.G.

5. Welcome to 'The Viewing Room'

“Shit. Shit. What have we done? Fuck. We are going to go to jail Sharky. Shit” Gary was freaking out. And rightly so. We had committed a terrible act. But I had to play the sensible one. The drugs had really taken a hold of Gary, but I was trying my best to play it cool

“Calm down Gary. No-one was around to see anything happen. The kid shouldn’t have been creeping about in the dark anyway. It’s not our fault.” I was trying to convince myself more than I was trying to convince Gary. “Let’s try and clean this mess up a bit, and then we will dump the kid outside a hospital somewhere.”

“Maybe we should notify the police Sharky?” It wasn’t like Gary to come across as all high and moral, but he was panicking. We really had got ourselves in a fix this time.

“The police? Are you joking? Let’s just dump the kid, go back to the hotel and then catch our flight home as planned. We both know it was an accident, and there were no witnesses. Come on…..the courts would throw the book at us. The drugs. Driving. And then……” I couldn’t even speak the words. What we had done was unspeakable….no doubt about it.

“O.K. But this stays between us Sharky. I’m warning you. No-one finds out about this. You hear me? You fucking hear me?” The effect of the cocktail of chemicals we had taken was wearing off; Gary was starting to really stress out. We needed to get out of here quickly, before someone else drove past and noticed us….and the boy.

“Cool man. Not a word. To nobody. Now lets get the fuck out of here.” We were both leaning on the bonnet of the silver 4x4, facing towards the windscreen. We were lucky. There was not a mark on the paintwork of the jeep. The sturdy bumper had taken the brunt of the collision…..and the little boy had taken the rest. I couldn’t bring myself to turn round and see the kid lying battered and beaten twenty metres along the road, but I knew I had to. If we were going to get away with this I was going to have to focus, and get rid of the evidence. Everything appeared to run in slow motion as I rotated my head in the direction of the ‘road kill’, my stomach jumped with a huge jolt and I couldn’t believe my eyes. All that remained on the dusty midnight highway was a pool of blood. The boy was gone. Disappeared.

*************************

“Sleep well Paul? Hope you didn’t have a bad dream”

I sat bolt upright as I awoke from the nightmare. A thousand horrifying images were fleeting through my head. The boy. The 4x4. All those years ago. My head was a mess, and I was soaked through with sweat, the stale stench of it filling the room. The voice belonged to Rory, or Tug, I really wasn’t sure anymore. The dream had totally thrown me, and I felt hungover, like I had been out, having a heavy night on the chemicals.

“Rory. Tug. Whoever you are. How did you get in here?” I was angry. Very angry. As if all this hadn’t been too much already I was now being deprived of sleep. I couldn’t be sure how long I had actually slept for; there were no clocks anywhere that I could see, and my watch was still missing.

“The door Paul. Just like everyone does. How else? You really have to try a little harder, Paul, it might benefit you in the long run.” As soon as the man had finished his sentence I could tell it was Rory again. He stood there staring and smiling as usual, like some sort of deranged robot. His repetition of my name, and the sedated manner in which he conducted himself also led to my figuring out that it was Rory this time.

“Rory, are you going to let me know what is going on? And can I have my stuff back? What time is it?” I didn’t expect him to answer any of my questions - he never did – and I knew just as much about this place as I did when I woke up here for the first time. I couldn’t take much more of this, I was beginning to properly crack. The nightmare was proof that I was starting to lose my mind.

“What time is it Paul? Good question. I’ll tell you what time it is. It’s time to move on. Things are going to start moving along today Paul, and all your questions will be answered. Don’t worry about that.”

As I rubbed my eyes free of the crispy sleep that was plastered to the bottom of my eyelids I realised that the door to the room was wide open. As I squinted across the room and out the door I was taken aback. The bar was gone and had been replaced with a smaller, more empty room.

“Ah, you’ve noticed ‘The Viewing Room’ Paul. Do you like TV? As soon as you are awake enough you may proceed, Paul. As I keep telling you….we have so much to do.”

I was still overwhelmed by being roused so suddenly from my sleep, and before I could get my head round what he had just said, Rory walked briskly from the room and into what he had called ‘The Viewing Room’. I could see from my position that there was a TV mounted on the wall, and a comfy looking chair sitting directly in front of it. All sorts of ideas rushed through my mind….What was going to happen now? Was this part of the ‘game’? Was I finally going to get to meet Pa? I knew one thing for sure. I couldn’t answer any of my questions by lying here on this bed. I had no other choice than to get up from my bed and make my way into the adjoining room.

6. The Private Screening.

I stood up and gathered my thoughts. Where had the bar gone? And what was this room it had been replaced with? I was still oblivious to the meaning of it all, but there was little else I could do. I had nowhere else to go except into the room that Rory had called ‘The Viewing Room’. I had never been too fond of TV back home. There were so many other things going on that I never quite found the time. But in the present circumstances, maybe watching a bit of meaningless television would take my mind off the predicament I had found myself in.

As I passed through the open door I studied its sturdy frame. There was no indication of any mechanism, or any other evidence that could explain why the bar had been replaced by this newer, smaller room. A surprise every day, I thought to myself. Pretty soon I would have taken so much that nothing would surprise me.

At least that’s what I thought…….

As I stepped into the room I could see that the TV was on. Rory was standing in the far corner of the room, just to the left of the massive monitor, which was mounted on the wall opposite the door. He was smiling, of course, and watching my every move with his familiar eyes.

“Take a seat Paul. The show is about to start. We wouldn’t want you to miss anything.”

I ignored him. I had listened to more than enough of his cryptic utterances. It was time for me to start playing the game too. Without looking at Rory or even acknowledging his presence in the room I made my way to the chair poised in front of the screen. As I sat down I let the bed of black leather absorb me, sinking deep into it. It was the first time I had experienced any sort of ‘comfort’ since waking up in……well, this place…..whatever it was.

The minute I had settled on the chair the screen lit up. A blinding white light, completely blank other than the acronym in bold black print in the centre – the acronym I had read on almost everything since my arrival here. P.o.G.

I glanced out of the corner out my eye at Rory. He wasn’t looking at the monitor. He was standing upright near the corner of the room, his back as straight as a ruler and his arms by his side. He was staring at me excitedly, as if he was anticipating some momentous event. I wish there was someone, anyone, who could let me know what was going on in this funhouse.

Suddenly the P.o.G. ‘logo’ on the plain white screen disappeared and the monitor went black, before a film began to play back. The footage was of a few toddlers playing in a sandpit. I watched on, curious as to what this stage of the ordeal was all about. Other than the film being played back, there was also something else on the screen. A meter, if you like, running from top to bottom on the far left hand side of the screen. Like a bar graph, but with only one bar. The meter was empty at present, but it was clear enough that it had been split into divisions according to some sort of pre-determined scale. Maybe it indicated how long had elapsed on whatever film was being screened. How clever. They might have been strange, sick bastards, but these people had some pretty nifty technology….

After what seemed like a couple of hours the meter still remained empty. Surely it couldn’t be charting the progress of the film, otherwise I was in for a long watch. Also, the film had changed a few times, but it was always the same thing…children, aged about three, playing. I didn’t understand what was going on. I really didn’t understand. The children were always different. Except for one boy who was always featured. He looked familiar, but in my distressed state I couldn’t figure out why. I watched on as the boy struck out at one of the other kids, releasing a gush of blood from the poor girl’s nose. To my bewilderment the meter on the left hand side of the screen began to fill up….just a little. What was the meaning of this?

The process repeated itself over and over. The meter began to climb rapidly. Sometimes the boy would be shown stealing, or lying. No matter what act was depicted in the footage the meter was steadily becoming full. Rory still stared at me, fixated with great interest, possibly expecting a reaction of sorts. When the bar was full all the way to the top the screen returned to how it was when I entered. Rory spoke.

“Ok Paul, that’s it for today. There is just one more thing to do and then you can go to the bar.” Rory continued to grin at me as he spoke the words.

“The bar?” I said. “But the bar was here, in this room. So where did it go?” This was getting tiresome. Very tiresome indeed.

“Things are not as they seem here Paul. We operate in mysterious ways. Now if you like to go through the door……” He paused “….the door that you came in. I will explain later. But first you must go to the Punishment Room. As Tug said Paul. Nothing comes for free here.”

I felt my stomach jump as once again Rory knocked the wind out of me with his words. The Punishment Room? And Tug? Had he and Rory been sitting around discussing my fate? I was visibly shaking, and sweating furiously.

“W…W…What’s The Punishment Room?” I asked.

“You’ll see Paul. You’ll see. Tug likes to call it ‘The Justice Room’, but I think Punishment is far more fitting. Anyway. I have much to do. Can we proceed Paul?”

It was at that point that I first seriously considered overpowering Rory and forcing the truth out of him. I sat quietly on the chair, poised to strike, but as I quickly turned to confront Rory I caught a glance through the open door, and into what was previously my bedroom. As soon as I saw the contents of the room I fell back onto the floor and began to scream………

“Don’t worry Paul. It’ll all be over soon. Nobody ever lasts too long in the Boomerang Factory.” As he spoke those macabre words Rory turned his head towards me in a slow, smooth motion and held his stare for a few seconds before continuing….”Oh, and don’t you dare bother trying anything. You’ll only make it worse for yourself.”

7. Rory says 'Punishment', Tug says 'Justice'

I continued to lie on my back against the wall screaming; the sheer terror forced upon me by the contents of what Rory had called 'The Punishment Room' had frozen my body rigid with fright. I continued to shreik out cries of help as the chemical adrenilan of fear pumped through my petrified body. I was no longer fearing for my life, it was worse than that...death would be an easy way out.

"Now come on Paul." Rory uttered in his usual sedate tone, "It isn't that bad...don't wake Pa. Tug will probably go easy on you, but Pa..Pa will..."

"SHUT-UP." I had taken enough and the adrenalin had worked its way from my brain into my heart - and now, unfortunately for Rory, into my legs and fists. "Now you sick fuck. I want some answers. Tell me what the hell is going on in here right now if you know what is good for you."

"Oh Paul, oh Paul. First you open the box, and now, this. You really should learn Paul. Self restraint is such a basic requirement." Rory gestured towards the gaping door he was standing next to and before I could move Tug was standing in the room. It was the first time I had seen these two in the same room, and I still found it difficult to believe that one was a different person from the other. As Rory stood there smiling, and Tug with his familiar frown, I had no idea what my next move was.

"Shall we get Pa, Rory?" Tug asked, without breaking his fixation with my watering eyes.

"No need Tug." Rory smiled, doing the same. "Have you got the drugs? Lets see how if they affect him differently when he's awake. Now, don't struggle Paul....You really only will make it worse for youself."

The bastards had been drugging me in my sleep. Of course. That would explain the flashbacks, the drowsiness, and the seemingly impossible morphing of the many obscure rooms in this twisted place. They had both been toying with me and twisting my thoughts the whole time. No wonder I was confused. As I again fell back against the wall I struggled to be sure of what had actually happened and what I'd dreamt. I slumped right down onto the pristine white floor and unfurled the white flag. I couldn't fight anymore, I knew I had to give up and let them do what they needed to. I knew I couldn't overpower them both, and at this point I was just making things worse for myself. The adrenilan had passed, and I was weak again. Tired, scared and confused.

"Now come on Paul", Rory continued "we were under the impression you liked drugs." Rory let out an evil laugh as Tug made his way across the room towards me with some sort of gun-type implement. I had returned to my petrified state, glued in postion and gave no struggle when Tug placed the 'chamber' against my neck and squeezed the tiny silver trigger.

My head began to spin as the room grew larger, and smaller, and larger again. Rory and Tug were laughing uncontollably, and spinning circles around me as I felt the floor begin to shake and crumble. Music started playing....that familar sound...the orchestral hypnosis of the symphony I had heard in my head when first waking up in this place. Rory had called it 'The Boomerang Factory'....what did it all mean? The drugs had really started to work on my brain and it was unlike anything I'd tried before...it was like a mixture of all drugs...a trippy, mellow, buzzing high...followed by a spiralling low. There were images, noises fleeting through my mind like a video on fast forward. It was becoming too much for my head and I let out a roar. I staggered around the room as it changed colour and shape around me, yellow triangles becoming blue circles and green squares. Rory and Tug were still laughing at me, really enjoying my suffering and despair and I fell around on my arms and legs trying to escape from the noise and images in my head. Suddenly a flash image of a young boy's face appeared and stared at me through the pandemonium. I knew who he was, the guilt had kept me awake every night for years, the nightmares had ruined my professional career and forced me to slip further into the grasp of drink and drugs. Just like in the nightmares the eyes of the boy pierced my skull, looking right inside me. The hallucination was reaching its almighty crescendo, an abundance of patterns and images spun around the oustide of the room which had become black and infinite, like space itself. In the middle was the face, staring right down into my eyes...Rory and Tug were gone. Disappeared.

People don't just disappear.

The face opened it's mouth and started to scream. A million images were breathed all over me, like fire from a dragon. Images of suffering and pain. I could feel every last bit of it as my body was drenched with guilt. For some reason these drugs had heightened my senses more than anything ever had before. It was too much. I was being made to experience so much pain and mental pressure that I didn't think I could possibly withstand it, I was at point break. Suddenly the walls reappeared, the room stopped moving, and silence was restored to the room. The trip was over. I stood in the middle of the room in a catatonic daze. I could see Rory and Tug making preperations in 'The Punishment Room', it was all too much for my head. The last thing I remember as I fell from my feet and lost control of my senses in The Boomerang Factory was the overwhelming hangover of guilt....

8. Deliverance??

I woke up. The music had stopped....and I could think....finally, my mind was free of the bells, strings and chimes of that ghostly orchestra. The first thing I noticed when I opened my puffed eyes was the pale blue canvas stretched out infinitely above me. My retinas scorched as my pupils readjusted; it was the first time I had seen natural light in what seemed like years. It was raining too. Water. My cracked lips were soaking up the moisture like an oasis camel; they had grown chapped and parched from the dry air in The Boomerang Factory......that's what they called it. What had happened? Where was I? I had gone past the threshold of 'hoping' I was dead. Like all of us, death was my destination; I'd just got on the wrong bus.

As I lifted my head to get a better view of my surroundings, all I could smell was grass. No, not grass. If only. I actually mean grass. Fields and fields of knee-high freshly soaked grass, streching on for miles and miles. Around my entire circumference the green met the sky blue on the horizon in a perfectly invisible line; the tranquil watercolour landscape undisturbed as far as the eye could see. I lay back down and let the grass tickle my face, permitting tiny streams of rain to run from the tips of the blades and into my mouth. Suddenly I started to remember details....Rory....Tug....The Punishment Room...the drugs. Where was I? Where had I been? More importantly still.....Why was this all happening.

People don't just disappear.

A couple of flashbacks later I was moving on my knees, pushing the grass aside like a breaststroke swimmer. As I struggled to my feet I could feel a thousand aches and pains, the physical residue of whatever drugs those sick freaks had pumped into me. Those horrible flashbacks...the boy....I couldn't see the reason for it all.

"we were under the impression you liked drugs."

As I struggled to my feet the flashbacks resided. I had to figure out where I was and find some help, those crazy bastards were still out there somewhere - but at least I was free for now. Free, and out in the open air. I couldn't see signs of any structures anywhere on the horizon. As I moved through the grass in a combination of running and walking I still could see no sign of civilisation. Faster and faster I moved, my heart racing as I stumbled through the greens, running for what seemed like hours on end. I had no idea where I was running to, and, well, you know by now the horror that I was running from. The Boomerang Factory. I sprinted until I couldn't run anymore, slowing down to an eventual stop and bending double with my hands on my hips. Here I was, poor Paul...poor old tortured Paul lost in the middle of nowhere. But how had I got here? Where was The Boomerang Factory? Did it...Do I even exist? I looked straight up to the sky as I pondered these questions. I had never believed in god. Not once. The thought had never crossed my mind. It was ridiculous, impossible and irrational. I had no intention of becoming a 'Crisis-Christian', but as I got caught up in the moment I found myself screaming at the open sky:

"Are you up there?? Hey...I'm talking to you. Are you up there big guy?? Can you hear me? Can anybody here me?"
.....
"Come on.....Somebody....help....Help me!"
.....
"Come on......please..."
.....

As I fell to my knees and broke once again I realised it wasn't grass my knees had landed on; it was concrete. The harder than expected landing had resulted in a sharp bang on the knee. As a crimson bruise of blood appeared on my faded jeans I stumbled back on to my feet. I was standing in the middle of a road.....a road that went both ways to nowhere. An endless highway fading both left and right to a vanishing point miles away on the line between the horizon's green and blue. It must have been hidden perfectly in between the folds of grass when I was had earlier scouted the area. Finally, I'd found the way home. After all I had been through I could just sit here and wait for a car or truck to come along. As I looked further up the road to my left I froze with disbelief as I saw the blue pastel sky instantly turn black in front of my eyes.

Was it some sort of trick of nature? A storm? My second question was answered immediately as a loud crack of thunder shot through the air - which itself was becoming increasingly dry and stale. As the thick cloak of night descended a flash lit up the wet grass and the mirrored surface of the smooth, wet highway. The rain got heavier and heavier. Another rumble from the heavens; followed by a series of forks in the distance. As I spun in an arc to see the lightning I jumped instincively as I caught something out of the corner of my eye further up the road behind me....some sort of silhouette flashing for a split second in the rain. By this point I had little to lose and decided just to make my way towards it - albeit slowly, in a trance at the bizarre sequence of events that had unfolded. As I got closer and closer to where I thought the shadow in the dark was situated another flash illuminated the night. The object was about thirty feet away from me, and it was as if the electricity had passed through me as I was instantly startled by what I saw. For a fraction of time I could make out what, and who the object was - well, not exactly who....but I could narrow it down to one of two familar faces. The object was an altar-type improvisation, and it was either Rory or Tug who was mounted proudly, screaming words from a book opened on the platform below him. I could hear no words, as the roar of thunder due to follow the flash had arrived, but I knew what I was going to do....

I wasn't taking my chances. After the last 'confrontation' with Rory and Tug, and the resultant drugs 'guilt' trip, I didn't fancy my chances. Before the next flash of light revealed my form to Rory - or Tug...good god, do I have to keep repeating this..- I was going to turn and run, and this time I wasn't stopping for anyone, or anything.

In the instant moment that I began to turn my head and run from Rory, everything seemed to occur in slow motion. As my head began to move Rory's face lit up once more, but with a more concentrated, artifical column of light. The moment registered too late for my eyes to tell my brain to tell my body to stop turning, and as I rotated further I caught a quick glimpse of where the light was coming from. I had little time to think or react as the jeep ploughed straight through me on the dark highway, knocking my body violently to the floor, and leaving me to bleed on the edge of the road by the wet grass. I hadn't seen it coming, but I had felt every last ounce of the pain as the automobile shattered my bones like fibreglass. The impact should've killed me. But it didn't. I was aware. I could hear.....the words.

Thou shalt not commit sin beneath the eyes of your father

Thou shall be judged here as you would before the Creator

Another crack hit me on the ribs and as I jolted to my senses I could still see the altar, and Rory - it was definitely Rory - planted on top of it, speaking the words which I could hear so clearly. As my eyes once again readjusted I realised where I was. I wasn't on the road anymore...to my left stood Tug with some sort of bat-type implement, and to my right the altar. I could tell by the bare decor of the room that I was back....back here...in the factory.

"Enjoy the trip Paul?" Tug chuckled as he once again hit my ribs with the paddle. "Seasick?"

Seasick. I'd heard that before.....I was sure I had. They must have been drugging me again. Well, I was definitely sick. I had thought my nightmare was over. But I was still here; In The Boomerang Factory at the mercy of the lunatic brothers. I tried to get up, but I was fastened tigthly to a table. I couldn't move at all. I was back in one of this building's horribly immaculate rooms. The only thing I could see in the pale white room other than the altar and the table was a meter on the wall. A bar graph, similar to the one on the television in 'the viewing room' - except this one was full...thank god...the other one took what seemed like days to fill up, patiently sitting under watchful eyes viewing videos of a child misbehaving. I still had no idea what this was all about, and I didn't like the odds on me finding out from either Tug or Rory.

"That was one of the biggest doses we have administrated. Did you have fun Paul? Have you ever had a better experience on drugs?" Tug struck me again, cracking a couple of my ribs and winding me for the third time. "Now, you have had your fun. Welcome to The Punishment Room, Paul. Remember what I told you in the bar Paul...?" As Tug finished his sentence and glanced his usual menacing glare he lifted a box from the floor beside the bed, and started removing a series of 'tools' from it.

Nothing comes for free here.

I looked again at the graph on the wall. It was still completely full. I was in for a long shift.

9. Losing My Religion

The service didn’t last too long. It couldn’t, the grieving had been too hard on the whole family. As the father stood there with two hands resting on his shoulders – one from each of his remaining sons – he was a man who was visibly in great conflict with himself. The handful of friends and family who had gathered for this private service could see the change in him, his eyes had become more tired and his brow had taken a beating from the stress of losing yet another loved one.

He had been a good Christian, followed all the rules. Those who knew him could say he was a man who lived his whole life by the book, word for word – he had never gambled, cheated or committed assault….he had never put a single foot out of line. He’d also never missed a Sunday in church in all of his existence – he had lived exactly the way the lord had asked him, but it had never been enough.

Losing his wife in the accident four years ago had hit him hard, it looked for a while as if he wouldn’t pull through. The only thing which salvaged the wreck of a man was the community spirit in the rural Christian development in which he lived. When Mary had been hit by the car he began to question his faith – but during a crisis meeting with the lord he had poured his heart out, resolved the issues. A tight-knit extended family would better explain the large village in which the widower resided, everybody knew everybody else, and their secrets too.

His wife had died in a car accident. A drink-driver – who was also on parole for armed robbery among other things – had fallen asleep at the wheel and steamed through her as she waited to cross the intersection on the way to church on a sunny afternoon. The driver himself had fallen into a coma, but Mary, Mary wasn’t so lucky; she had died instantly in a world where innocent people were unable to safely walk the streets anymore. A world of sin.

When the news broke that his son had been hit by a speeding car last week and that the driver had sped off and left the boy to slowly die in the long wet grass beside the road, the man began to lose his faith again. It was different this time though. When he had lost his wife the man wanted comfort, love and support from his 'father'. Now he wanted answers – to all the questions. The questions that a man of his spiritual persuasion must ask himself everyday. Why? How can I possibly believe in this god when there is so much vice in the world? How can the almighty one let this happen to innocent church-going people? Why is it always the devout, pious good Christians? If it was the almighty one’s way of testing, or second guessing us then why didn’t it happen to one of the ‘non-believers’ out there? There is nothing more tragic than someone losing their faith, rejecting all that they believe in….but this didn’t happen to him. Sure, he stopped following the book so closely; started drinking and entertaining thoughts. Thoughts that there might be other explanations for our existence; but despite the fact that his god had failed to stick by him, he stuck by god….he just didn’t trust him anymore. He wasn’t about to turn his back on the big man – because he already had two emotional knife-wounds in his back, and he didn’t want another. A world of sin.

At the service all the faces had looked the same. They had all studied the man’s, and those of his two sons. Knowing glances passed back and forth across the quiet burial ground. The rest of the parish regulars could tell. Something was changing in him, but they would stick with him and support him until the very end – they were pretty much family.

At the wake he had given a speech. A powerful speech. One which raised many questions. Questions about god…justice…interpretation. There were people who liked what they heard, and people who didn’t. But one thing was for sure. The quiet man wanted revenge. And if the lord wasn’t willing to provide it for him then he would have to do it for himself. As he stood up in front of everybody else in the community hall, speaking of how the world had changed, he didn’t know. He couldn’t possibly have known. The lotto ticket he had purchased when in the big smoke mid-week choosing a box to put his son to rest in was changing his life and his destiny as he spoke. He had felt guilty for buying it, but then he thought about the accidents…..if god was allowed to slip up once in a while then so was he. It was only fair. Do unto others. Surely that applies upstairs too? Would be a hypocritical religion otherwise, wouldn’t it?

As he stood there in the hall, rallying his soldiers for the war on sin and injustice, he didn’t know. He didn’t know his time had come, that the mysterious forces operating unseen were levelling things out. He had bought the lotto ticket in the heat of the moment, and he didn’t know he would never have to work again.

$180m sure is a lot of money. Especially for a pissed off, rural-born, angry Christian. He had absolutely no idea about the real world – but he didn’t have to now. He had all the money he would ever need. And for the things he wanted to do he was going to need a lot of money….and a little faith.

To Be Continued