slits. His clothes revealed absolutely nothing about the face under the hood or the man’s size. Cam realized he was just assuming it was a man. Then an electronically distorted voice boomed out of the computer’s speakers, startling all three of them. Cam hadn’t been aware that his speakers were even capable of transmitting such a noise.
“All rise,” the voice commanded, the sound loud enough to be heard around the office. A detective from Major Crimes stuck his head in the door and asked, “What the hell was that?”
The standing figure reached over the figure in the chair and lifted the hood, which Cam recognized was probably just a pillowcase. The video was a little jerky, but it was clear enough to see who was in the chair, and Cam grunted in surprise. It was Kyle Simmonds, aka K-Dog, of minimart fame.
“Well, looky here,” Kenny murmured. “K-Dog, my man. What you doin’ there, dude?”
K-Dog’s tongue came out as he licked his lips for an instant and tried to look around. Then Cam saw the neck brace and realized that K-Dog’s head was also immobilized.
“Watch carefully, Officers,” the computer’s speakers intoned in sepulchral tones. “This man slaughtered three innocent people. You let him get away with it. I’m going to rectify that problem. I’m going to send him to hell until the end of time.”
K-Dog’s eyes got very wide and he appeared to be trying to speak, but then they saw that there was something in his mouth, some soft, wet, bulky object that appeared to be held in place by two shiny metal clamps on either side of his mouth. He was wearing a white T-shirt and jeans, but no shoes or socks. Beads of perspiration stood on his forehead. They couldn’t see his teeth when he opened his mouth and began making increasingly frantic mewing sounds while his hands turned red as he fought against the steel restraints on his wrists. The hooded figure standing behind the chair withdrew from sight, and for a moment nothing happened.
“Oh my God,” Horace said. “You know what that is? That’s a fucking—”
The deep bass note coming from the speakers was replaced by the unmistakable sound of high voltage, a lethally urgent throbbing sound that transfixed K-Dog’s strappeddown body, making every one of his muscles suddenly visible and causing a sputtering cooking sound to come from his mouth. Cam found himself backing away from the computer screen as the electrocution gained in strength and ferocity, the volume rising now as K-Dog’s eyes bulged out to the size of golf balls and then began to change texture from clear to something more like hard-boiled eggs. The sputtering
from his mouth became the sound of fat roasting in open flames, and it was accompanied by a brownish vapor. His hair began to smoke and his arms and legs were jerking furiously against the restraints as the neurons in his body responded to the current’s frequency, forcing every one of his muscles to expand and contract in time with some distant power plant’s turbogenerator. Finally, visible flames crackled around K-Dog’s neck and ears and his spine curved outward against the leather belt, bending his fuming corpse toward the camera as if in supplication, while an eerie blue aura formed around his extremities. Then came the sound of a huge electric arc, and all the sound stopped, along with the current, apparently. K-Dog’s body slumped down into the chair as if his skeleton had been rubberized. His eyes were still wide open, but they were just brownish white balls now, with only barely visible irises.
Cam swallowed and exhaled noisily, as did the other men, unaware that they’d been holding their collective breath. And then, to their horror, the current snapped back on. This time, the body jerked around in the chair like a puppet on springs as the relentless amperes coursed through what had to be a very dead body for another ten gruesome seconds.
Then the screen slowly dissolved to black again and the
“All rise,” the voice commanded, the sound loud enough to be heard around the office. A detective from Major Crimes stuck his head in the door and asked, “What the hell was that?”
The standing figure reached over the figure in the chair and lifted the hood, which Cam recognized was probably just a pillowcase. The video was a little jerky, but it was clear enough to see who was in the chair, and Cam grunted in surprise. It was Kyle Simmonds, aka K-Dog, of minimart fame.
“Well, looky here,” Kenny murmured. “K-Dog, my man. What you doin’ there, dude?”
K-Dog’s tongue came out as he licked his lips for an instant and tried to look around. Then Cam saw the neck brace and realized that K-Dog’s head was also immobilized.
“Watch carefully, Officers,” the computer’s speakers intoned in sepulchral tones. “This man slaughtered three innocent people. You let him get away with it. I’m going to rectify that problem. I’m going to send him to hell until the end of time.”
K-Dog’s eyes got very wide and he appeared to be trying to speak, but then they saw that there was something in his mouth, some soft, wet, bulky object that appeared to be held in place by two shiny metal clamps on either side of his mouth. He was wearing a white T-shirt and jeans, but no shoes or socks. Beads of perspiration stood on his forehead. They couldn’t see his teeth when he opened his mouth and began making increasingly frantic mewing sounds while his hands turned red as he fought against the steel restraints on his wrists. The hooded figure standing behind the chair withdrew from sight, and for a moment nothing happened.
“Oh my God,” Horace said. “You know what that is? That’s a fucking—”
The deep bass note coming from the speakers was replaced by the unmistakable sound of high voltage, a lethally urgent throbbing sound that transfixed K-Dog’s strappeddown body, making every one of his muscles suddenly visible and causing a sputtering cooking sound to come from his mouth. Cam found himself backing away from the computer screen as the electrocution gained in strength and ferocity, the volume rising now as K-Dog’s eyes bulged out to the size of golf balls and then began to change texture from clear to something more like hard-boiled eggs. The sputtering
from his mouth became the sound of fat roasting in open flames, and it was accompanied by a brownish vapor. His hair began to smoke and his arms and legs were jerking furiously against the restraints as the neurons in his body responded to the current’s frequency, forcing every one of his muscles to expand and contract in time with some distant power plant’s turbogenerator. Finally, visible flames crackled around K-Dog’s neck and ears and his spine curved outward against the leather belt, bending his fuming corpse toward the camera as if in supplication, while an eerie blue aura formed around his extremities. Then came the sound of a huge electric arc, and all the sound stopped, along with the current, apparently. K-Dog’s body slumped down into the chair as if his skeleton had been rubberized. His eyes were still wide open, but they were just brownish white balls now, with only barely visible irises.
Cam swallowed and exhaled noisily, as did the other men, unaware that they’d been holding their collective breath. And then, to their horror, the current snapped back on. This time, the body jerked around in the chair like a puppet on springs as the relentless amperes coursed through what had to be a very dead body for another ten gruesome seconds.
Then the screen slowly dissolved to black again and the
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