Where's Barney?

“Where's Barney?”

I wasn't ready for the question.

“Who?” I said, not even recognizing the sounds coming out of my mouth.

“Barney..., where's Barney?”

While waiting for them to come at me, I had been running interrogation scenarios in my head. If they ask me that does it mean they are interested in my answer, or in my evasion? 

The most important think in any interview is where you get to in your head.  You lose control of that and you're going to break sooner rather than later.  

Listen to the questions and answer with the legend.  Even if that's not the question they are asking.

Keep control of the conversation.  They will do everything in their power to take it from you, throw you off, put ideas in your head.

Must not think about pink elephants....  Oh, fuck.

There's a reason there aren't many old operators.  Lots really, but for interrogation you have to be able to keep your head in the game, be sharp, be fast, and, at my age, I wasn't anymore.  
I did my best to prepare for the questions about about what had happened. I had a legend and I was prepared to stick to it.

Barney was not part of that legend.

Christ, what are they sniffing around that for?

“Did you hear me? Where is Barney?”

I tried forcing my eyes open to look at whoever it was trying to drag meat hooks through my life.
And besides, I was curious which one of the Q-tips was really the brains of the operation.

Opening my eyes was hard work. There was something comforting about the dark world of sleep and I knew once I turned my back on it, I would not easily find my way back.
I could sense that the light in the room was bright, but I would not have any idea how bright until I cracked the seal on my eyes.

Bit by bit, they started to open and each advance was met with a sharp stab of pain as the light hit my retinas like lemon juice finds any break in the skin. Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see the tops of my cheeks come into view as I winced in a futile attempt to keep the light out.

I'm not normally someone who gets migraines, but this was one of those times and this was a migraine for the ages. Like everyone gets a lifetime allotment of migraines and I was taking mine all at once.

What was this shit they were pumping into me?

I tried to use my free hand to find my sorry excuse for a pillow and block out the corrosive light, but it had disappeared.

“Where's Barney?”

I still couldn't see the source of the voice. It didn't sound like any of the voices I had previously heard.

I heard the rustle of what sounded like starched fabric and, like magic, the light went away.

“Is that better?” said the Voice.

“Thank you.” I remember thinking it. I remember being genuinely grateful. I didn't know if I was able to make the words. I remember my body suddenly and happily letting go of a flood of tension.

My mouth opened and the strange voice took what seemed like an hour to say, “Yes.”

Stick to the legend.

“What's going on?” I said after a long effort.

“Were trying to figure that out,” said the Voice. “You've been talking in your sleep and we need to try an make sense of that so we can figure out how to make you better.”

“Barney?” I heard myself say. “Who's that?”

“Now you see our problem,” said the Voice. “Does the name mean nothing to you?”

“I had a dog named Barney,” I said, “but that was years ago.”
“So you weren't being entirely truthful.”
The tone of the Voice changed slightly. It wasn't a question, or an accusation.

They were trying to keep me off balance.

Stick to the legend.

“Why are you asking me about my dog? Look, I've had a pretty rough couple of days and I just want to get out of here and go home.”

I was exhausted from all the talking.

“Interesting.... And where is that?”

“Where's what?” I said.

“Home.... Where is your home?”

Ah....

Walked right into that one.

“I.... I.... Don't know.” It was the best I could do.

“But you do have a home, don't you?”

“Yes,” after a long pause.

“Tell us about it.”

Nice. Really nice. Get me talking. Look for cues that they can come back at me with.

The jagged light snapped on and it was like an equal amount of electricity was send through my body.

I made another noise that didn't sound like a sound I would make.

“Turn that light out!” The Voice had a quality this time that seemed to make the lights go out even if no one was there to flip the switch.

“I'm sorry that happened? Are you okay?”

The best I could manage was a wince-inflected grunt.

“You were telling us about your home....”

There was such an inviting quality to that statement that to not participate seemed rude. I was awake now, as close to alert as I was going to get, and yet powerless in the face of the solicitude.

Barney, he was asking about Barney: I had to remember that.

Barney.

All I could think about was the thousands of hours we spent underground.

“I live in a tunnel,” I said.

I could hear a rustling of papers, as though a light breeze was blowing across the part of the room that was obscured in shadow.

“That's not a home, is it? Were you born in a tunnel?”

There were times when it seemed like it.

“No....”

“How long have you lived in a tunnel?”

Stick to the....

“Some people are looking for me,” I said. I hadn't intended to say that. Not sure how it came out.
“Who? Who's looking for you? Why do you think they are looking for you?”

We had reached the fork in the road.

“I don't know,” I said after a very long time.

“How do you know they are after you?”

I didn't like the way this was going to sound....

“Took a shot at me,” I said.

“Oh, that must have been very frightening for you.”

More of the disarming compassion.

“Have you ever been shot at before?”

“Have you?” I asked, reflexively.

“Yes,” said the Voice.

“Then you know how fucking scary it is.”

“Yes,” said the Voice.

“You live in the tunnel because you're afraid.” Again, not a question.

“Wouldn't you be?” I said.

“Yes,” said the Voice.

“Where did you find a tunnel large enough for you and Barney?”

“Barney isn't with me anymore,” I said.

“Oh, that's too bad.... What happened to Barney?”

I really didn't want to think about that.