The Collected (A Jonathan Quinn Novel) by Brett Battles

“Cold, huh? Good for skin.” Another laugh and he, too, was gone.
    What Janus hadn’t noticed, though, was that as Nate’s body reacted to the shock, he’d automatically shoved up on his feet, tilting the chair backward a quarter of an inch as the bolts holding the front two legs down gave a little under the pressure. Nate had sensed it immediately, and had used his toes to slow his descent back to the floor so the movement wouldn’t be noticeable.
    He remained motionless for the first three minutes he was alone. Finally, when he felt his visitors wouldn’t be returning right away, he rocked back again. He went up a quarter inch before the bolts caught. On his next try he used more force, moving higher. He kept at it, each time gaining a fraction of an inch, until finally he heard one of the bolts pop.
    Instantly, he dropped the chair to the floor and eyed the door, expecting Janus to come rushing in. He counted off seconds, stopping when he reached the four-minute mark without the door opening.
    He finally allowed himself to glance at the floor. Because his chest was strapped to the chair, he couldn’t lean far enough forward to see the front legs. Also, if he’d heard right, the pop had come from the right side, so even if the bolt had come loose and fallen to the floor, it would have been difficult to detect with his faux foot.
    Keeping an eye on the door, he rocks slowly back. While the left front leg of the chair still caught on its bolt, the right side was definitely free.
    The door started to open. He quickly put the legs back down, and hoped to God the bolt was hidden by the chair or his own legs.
    Janus entered. Instead of a bucket, he had a Taser.
    “We go for a walk,” the man said. “You will be good boy, yes?”
    Nate stuck to the same script he’d been reading from since his captivity began and kept his mouth shut.
    As Janus approached him, he touched a button on the side of the Taser. An electronic hiss emanated from the device.
    “See this? You don’t want me touch you with this. Not feel nice. I guarantee. So you be good boy.”
    Nate kept his face blank as Janus circled around behind the chair.
    Don’t look down . Don’t see the bolt.
    Janus undid the straps across Nate’s thighs, released the one around his chest, and backed away.
    “Unbuckle your ankles,” he said.
    A smart move, taking away the possibility he might get kicked or punched in the process. But it also gave Nate the opportunity to find the bolt. As he leaned down, he searched the floor, but couldn’t see it.
    “Faster,” Janus ordered.
    Nate undid one ankle, then the other as he continued to hunt for the piece of hardware.
    There it is .
    It was directly behind his right heel. As he started to reach for it, Janus pushed him on the back, sending him sprawling from his chair.
    “On your feet.”
    Silently cursing himself, Nate slowly rose. As he did, he kept his head down like he was tired, and glanced back at the chair. The bolt was still there.
    “Let’s go,” Janus said, underlining his order with a test zap of the Taser.
    Nate took a single step forward, then halted.
    “Keep moving,” Janus told him.
    Nate turned toward the other man. “I don’t feel very—”
    Before he could finish, he saw the Taser shoot toward him. Nate acted like he was going to throw up and dropped to the floor, Janus’s weapon slicing harmlessly through the space where he’d just been. He shot his arms forward, grabbed the bolt, and brought it down to his chest as the Taser touched his back.
    For the next several seconds, he jerked and jolted on the ground, the electric pain seemingly touching every nerve ending as he lost control of his body. When the hissing stopped, he continued to spasm for several seconds, playing out the last of the Taser’s effects.
    Nearly a minute passed before Janus said, “I tell you to be good boy. Now, get up.”
    Nate felt a pain on his chest. Not electrical from the Taser, more like a bruise. The