Hawthorne still pointed the gun toward the captive as he watched the film. Waiting for the right moment to ask him once the film ended. Keeping one eye on the film, and the other on the captive. He waited until the film ended before saying anything. Hawthorne then walked in front of the captive’s view, and held the gun pointed at his face now the film was done. He wanted answers and he was going to get them any way he could.
”Tell me everything you know about NASA’s beta program.”
With the gun firm in his grip, he would not move until the captive answered his question. Whoever this man was had a lot of explaining to do. Hawthorne was not the only one who needed answers, the whole island did. Yet the question he asked himself was, were they going to get them? He waited for the captive to answer, whether he would say yes or no. Hawthorne watched the captive tremble as he opened his mouth.
”I’m not saying a word.”
Then wham! Hawthorne goes upside the captive head with the gun! He watched blood spurt out of the captive’s forehead. He looked at the captive who’s eyes shot up, even though he must have been in pain from the new head would. Hawthorne raised the gun as if he was about to hit him again. He watched the captive hold his hands up, as if he were planning to talk after all. Hawthorne waited for what he was going to say.
”Alright, I’ll tell you everything.”
He waited to hear it, but Hawthorne had the feeling he was only saying this to delay the inevitable. Above all, he did not think he would. Someone like him would rather die than spill his guts. NASA was not the military or the police force. Yet the approaches training soldiers, cops, and astronauts were similar. Hawthorne knows this all too well. Just a matter of seeing whether or not he would indeed tell the truth.
”Just don’t shoot me, alright?”
The second he said this, Hawthorne cocked the gun as if he was going to shoot. He wanted to make sure the captive would answer. He then held the gun between his eyes, ready to pull the trigger. Even pressing it to his forehead, despite the captive’s promise to tell the truth. Yet did that mean he would? He waited to see if he would comply or not. Hawthorne got the feeling it was not going to happen. Not in a million years.
He could feel the captive’s forehead throb against the gun. Hawthorne did not take his finger off the trigger, and had no plans to. For some reason, the captive had not said anything. No word about NASA or its beta program. Why did NASA feel the need to be involved with time travel? What was the purpose of these experiments? These were the questions that needed to be answered. Yet none of them were.
”All I want to know about is the NASA program behind this demonstration here.”
His hand shook while he held the trigger. Hawthorne fought the desire to shoot him outright. Hawthorne was determined to give him one more chance, a chance to tell the truth about what was going on. The captive stammered and stuttered his way through an answer, along with the ”promise” of answering the question. The more Hawthorne though about it, the more it upset him.
”Forget it.” he said. ”Your time is up.”
Before he could think, he shot the captive in the head. Blood poured out after the force of the gunshot knocked the captive back in his chair. Hawthorne stood over him while he took his last breaths. Hawthorne learned further, with his ear to the captive’s lips. This would be his last chance to spill what he knew. Maybe even the only way Hawthorne would be able to get him to talk. He had the feeling all along the captive would not talk, unless he made him.
Hawthorne leaned closer, since the captive was at last going to talk. At last, he would get what needed out of him. A few whispers came out, but Hawthorne then elbowed him to show he meant business. The captive’s speech became more clear. He held the gun to his stomach, ready to shoot if the captive stalled or backed off during his last moments. Yet then more started to come out of the captive’s mouth.
”It was a dumping ground.” the captive said. ”For those who failed to make it to space.”
He watched the captive’s eyes roll back in his head. As he lied there dead, he noticed a couple of items underneath the captive’s jacket. The photo ID that read H.G. Vernon, and the composition notebook fell out. Hawthorne started reading pages and pages of journal entries that may chronicle the truth about the beta program and NASA’s time travel experiments. In spite of the captive’s solidarity, this notebook mostly likely had the answers and Hawthorne knew it.