The doctor grinned as the needle plunged into Rory’s upper arm causing him to clench his fists until his knuckles whitened. Rory waited for heavy eyes, a numbness to consume him but he was still alert watching every movement the doctor made; if he was a doctor; forced to take a drug he didn’t need, kept isolated and limited on food and drink. He was a prisoner but didn’t know why. One minute he was drinking in a bar, the next he woke up in what could only be described as a cell.
“Now for the final stage,” the doctor said as lay down a tray. Out of the corner of his eye, Rory saw something move. “This won’t hurt for long, in and out then a quick swipe of alcohol. You can have a swig for good measure.”Using tweezers; he picked up a bug like creature no bigger than a thumb nail.
“I don’t understand . . . . . . . the needle.” Rory tried to hide the panic in his voice.
“Just so we can track this beauty.” He laid the bug on Rory’s chest. Immediately, the bug arched up, digging in with pincers. Rory yelled but could only watch as the bug burrowed into his chest.
“What have you done?” he screamed.
“You’ll find out one day when I need you, now you’re free to go. Word of warning. Do no try to remove Tim. He’s quite at home now in your nervous system.”
“A living creature needs a name.”