Davey Phelps’s body jerked spasmodically, his face turning purple. A trickle of urine ran down his leg.
Chilgers felt the pressure subside, steadied himself, waited for the boy to recover from the shock fully before speaking.
“We know about your abilities,” the colonel said. “In point of fact, boy, that’s why we brought you here.” His right hand made a twisting motion. Davey flinched involuntarily, tightening his features. “Relax, boy, I’m not going to press the red button and I won’t again unless you give me reason to. However, I have raised the shock level to three times that of what you just felt. As you’ve certainly figured out, we’ve attached the electrodes to an extremely sensitive area of your body. But you need feel no more pain. Cooperate with us, do as we say, and we will spare you further agony. Is that understood? Don’t speak, just nod.”
Davey did, glancing down at a white-jacketed figure wiping up the warm piss that had soaked his leg.
“What we are going to ask of you is quite simple,” Chilgers continued, “and you have no good reason not to follow the instructions you are given.” Chilgers held the black box out toward him. “This contains unspeakable agony that can drive you to hell and back again in a single instant. I hold it in my hand now only as a reminder. Beside you stands Dr. Teke, a far more mellow sort than I, who is about to give you your instructions. If you do not do precisely as he says, I will be forced to use the box again, and each time I shall increase its potency threefold. Is that understood, boy?”
Davey nodded again.
“Good. Proceed if you will, Dr. Teke.”
Davey felt a cold hand grasp his shoulder in a facade of warmth. The hand squeezed his flesh tenderly, sickening him, making him bite his lip to force The Chill down because he feared the horrible promised pain in his groin. The wires felt tighter around his balls and the cooling piss still soaked his leg. He’d do whatever they told him.
“Davey,” the bald one said, fondling his shoulder. “I want you to listen carefully.” He nodded at someone to his right. “I’m going to ask you to do something for me, quite simple really and it won’t hurt. Understand?”
Davey nodded, watching two men wheel a huge slab of shiny steel six feet before him. Then something else was stationed behind it but Davey couldn’t tell what.
“I’m going to ask you to use your power in a moment, Davey,” Teke said, finally taking the terrible hand away, “but before I do I must warn you to focus it only as I instruct. Otherwise the colonel will be forced to use the black box again and I’m sure we don’t want that, do we? You will limit the concentration of your power to the boundaries I give you. Understood?”
Davey nodded again.
“Good. Then let’s begin.” Teke backed up slightly, beyond Davey’s peripheral vision. “Placed behind the steel slab is a window pane of very thick glass. I want you to destroy it. I want you to focus your power directly through the steel and shatter it.”
Davey glanced quickly at him.
“Delays, boy, will prove costly,” said the one called Colonel, sliding his index finger over the red button.
“The power, Davey, use the power,” said Teke.
Davey looked at the steel slab and through it. The window pane locked onto his consciousness.
He tried to make The Chill.
Nothing happened.
His features tensed, eyes squinting. He tried harder.
Still nothing.
“I am growing impatient, boy,” the colonel snapped and his index finger started to move.
Davey made The Chill, hard and sure. His spine quivered with the icy touch.
Behind the slab of steel, the window pane shattered in a sudden blast. Men in white coats lurched back, trying to avoid flying slivers. Davey noticed a number of others writing things down feverishly on clipboards.
“What was the level?” Teke asked.
“Seven-point-two,” came the answer.
“My God,” Teke muttered. “That’s bare minimum.” Then he moved toward Chilgers and started whispering. “The boy’s power, as I speculated, is apparently most effective when he is threatened. You were going to jolt him again, yes?”
“My finger was on its way,” the Colonel acknowledged.
“The boy sensed your intention. That’s what brought the power out.”
“Your conclusion?”
“That the boy’s power originates at the subconscious level. It was at this level he sensed your intentions and activated his alpha waves.”
Davey felt a dull pounding in his head. He hoped the men were through with him but he knew they weren’t.
“We’re going to try it a second time, Davey,” the bald one told him gently, “this time with two steel slabs. I will give you ten seconds to use the power. If after that period you haven’t…” Teke turned his gaze toward Chilgers and the black box.
Davey watched the lab assistants slide a second steel slab behind the first, then another window pane was wheeled into place.
“Okay, Davey, shatter the glass again.”
Davey concentrated hard. The Chill eluded him.
“Only five seconds left, boy,” warned the colonel.
That was all he needed to hear. Davey made The Chill.
The glass shattered, breaking along lines identical with the first pane.
“Incredible,” muttered Teke, as men in white coats feverishly recorded information on their clipboards again. “Levels?”
“Seven-point-five,” came a voice from behind Davey.
“Good God! Barely no change at all.”
“What’s that mean?” Chilgers wondered.
“That we haven’t even begun to tap into his power level yet. This is absolutely fantastic. The concentration of energy waves this boy is able to call upon defies belief. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
The dull pounding had grown to a throb in Davey’s head. A snake tightened around his neck muscles and his back seemed to lock out. The worst of the pain rotated from one temple to the other. He wanted to make them stop, tell them he couldn’t go on anymore. But when he opened his mouth, there were no words.
“Are you all right, Davey?” the bald doctor asked him softly.
Davey swallowed some air. “My head. It hurts.”
“Just a little more. I promise, we’ll be done in just a few minutes.”
“Please …”
“Two more slabs this time,” Teke instructed his assistants, and Davey found himself staring at a row of steel two-feet thick.
“Do you think you can manage it, Davey?”
“Later. Please, later.”
“Now,” came the colonel’s resounding voice. “Now or you’ll feel the fury of the box, boy.” And his finger crept onto the red.
“No! …”
The two lab men were just easing the dolly holding the window pane into position when Davey made The Chill. The glass ruptured over them, digging into the exposed flesh of their arms and face, the larger slivers jabbing through their clothing. They dropped to the floor writhing in agony.
“I didn’t mean it!” Davey screamed. “I didn’t mean it!”
“I know, Davey, I know,” comforted the bald doctor, patting him on the shoulder again. “Get those men to the infirmary on the double. You two, move up here and replace them.” Then, to the monitors at Davey’s rear, “What was the level of that one?”
“Eight flat.”
“Effortless,” muttered Teke. “What about the energy concentration ratio?”
Another of the technicians consulted his clipboard. “Ninety-two-five. Up from eighty-six flat.”
Teke’s eyes bulged. “There must be some mistake. That’s impossible.”
“That’s what the gauges read, Doctor.”
“Why is it impossible, Teke?” Chilgers asked.