Spend the Weekend With A Good Book!

1/15/2026

Kyle sucked in a breath and jerked on his bindings again when a bucket of ice-cold water was thrown over him. Shivering, he wished he could wrap his arms around himself for even a small amount of warmth. He tried to keep his teeth from chattering, but it was a useless effort.

Tied to a chair with lights shining in his eyes, Kyle never saw the faces of any of those who’d taken him from the Militia barracks; they wore the government riot gear he disliked so much. He didn’t understand the charges being leveled against him, that he was a spy and had given the government agents information, dates, times, places where the Militia planned to take action. Despite his protests which rapidly turned to pleas, he was taken to a government office and placed under arrest. He’d done nothing but work hard for the Militia, given them every bit of information he’d had; he’d done nothing wrong.

The worst part was he’d been handed over to those very government agents from some unknown agency that wanted him dead months ago. He’d never seen faces, yet he recognized at least one voice, but he couldn’t put a name to the sound and that frustrated him.

Two vicious punches landed against his face, snapping his head back. The world spun in sickening waves, blood dripping down the back of his throat, making him gag. Despite the water thrown at him, he was parched, his lips dry and cracking. Rough hands grabbed him under the shoulders, jerking him forward as he was untied from the chair and his arms rebound behind him.

Another crack to his face preceded that annoyingly familiar voice. “Give up the rest of what you know. Your boyfriend can’t protect you now, fag.”

The idea of who it could be danced around the periphery of Kyle’s mind. He knew that voice, he did, why couldn’t he put a name to it?

He was dragged along the floor, feet stumbling to keep up and failing. Thrown to the ground, they left him there, shivering and shuddering against the cold. Despite how he struggled to stay awake and alert, light and sound drifted in and out of focus along with Kyle’s consciousness. Thoughts of Daniel and their sparring matches bloomed in his mind’s eye and faded away. Daniel had been teaching him to defend himself and Kyle had sparred with Pierre and a few others, but none of them had ever beaten him nearly senseless. He wondered how they kept their wits and functioned through something like this. No one was teaching him that form of defense.

They came back some time later, he had no idea how much later, and questioned him again. He pleaded with them to stop, trying to point out he’d told them the same story over and over. Kyle had no idea what other information they wanted or why they thought he had it. He was lying on his side, unable to escape when his ribs were repeatedly kicked, knocking the air from him with harsh grunts.

When the floor he was on shook and explosions ricocheted around somewhere outside the door, the brutal beating was stopped. Shouting and gunfire sounded close by. Struggling to lift his head, Kyle squinted through bruised and puffy eyelids at the door when it slammed open.

It was the invasion in his apartment all over again, only this time Kyle saw the subtle differences in the riot gear. These people stampeding through the door were from the Freedom Militia.

Kyle struggled to sit up and get off the floor, but it was impossible. Breathing was torture as he shifted his weight and inched around enough to get a better view of the new arrivals.

“Get away from him,” one man snapped.

Kyle immediately recognized that voice as Daniel’s. He’d know the man’s rambling gait anywhere. Daniel advanced on the three people still standing over Kyle. They scattered, but the others from the Militia fanned out, meeting them head-on. There was scuffling and fighting. Kyle cringed away, again trying to get up, to get away from his captors.
“I said get away from him.” Daniel clasped his hands together and brought them up, driving them into the face-plate of the man beside Kyle.