"Morty, I just killed someone for the first time, and barely felt anything. I have not slept in nearly 24 hours. My wife is in danger. I've lost friends today, and I expect to lose more. I've been betrayed by the man I gave ten years of my life to. I've just found out that the world is ending in a matter of hours, and the fate of the human race depends on me forcing you to spill your guts. So maybe you should be a little more afraid of me than you are."

The carefree look had been wiped clean off Morty's face. He wasn't ready to cave though.

"As I told your colleague," Morty said, "I don't think I could stop this even if I wanted to. But I am happy to see the whole world become infected, and I am prepared to die for it. I believe in my cause, and I see no reason why I should tell you anything."

The look in his eyes told me he wasn't going to budge unless I did something drastic. The thing I had hoped it wouldn't come to, it just did.

"Morty, have you ever heard of the Russian Gulag?" I asked.

Morty kept looking at me, but didn't respond.

I continued. "It's a string of prisons in Northern Siberia. Russians didn't have much equipment up there, so they had to make do with what was around, sort of like what I'm doing right now. You probably don't think I can force this towel down your throat. But trust me, I can. All the way. Except I'd hold on to this one little bit at the end. When your stomach starts to digest it, I pull it out, taking your stomach lining with it. For most people it would take about a week to die. It's very painful."

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