The wonderful images I was helping myself get by using vanish and instead are replaced by the head of the translator being blown from his body, by the blood and brain splattering up
against the walls, of Christopher losing his life as he looked at me. We both mouthed the words ‘I’m sorry’, to each other as if that made a damn difference. It meant nothing, what could we be sorry for? Being weak, I suppose, agreeing to something that neither of us wanted to do, but that’s it. Like many other people who have died in this place, we were just following orders. Doing what other men told us to do and paying the damn price for it.
There’s more noise, a lot more shouting, but that can happen. I press my hands to my ears using the tiny ounce of strength the water gave me to block it out. I don’t want to hear them, I just want to think. I squeeze my eyes even tighter and try to get back to that wonderful place where I found myself in bed with Jordan. That was nice, and since I didn’t have much longer, I didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world.
The door slams, it hits the wall hard, alerting me to yet another visitor. Another male whose face I can barely see under all his combat gear. He presses his finger up to his throat and mimes a throat being cut which lets me know that my time has come. It’s the moment I’m going to lose my life. I’ve accepted it but knowing that destroys me. It cuts my organs to ribbons and causes them to bleed all of my emotions. I’m nothing but scared.
I nod, tears streaming down my face, and I do what I can to heave my ailing body into a standing position. My knees ache, my calves tremble weakly, my ankles hurt like hell. Instinctively I reach around, trying to find something to grab onto to hold me upright, but there isn’t anything there. I stagger back until I hit the wall and as I slam backwards, the vomit which threatened to spill out before comes flying from my mouth and splatters on my shoes. I’m pathetic, disgusting, right at the end of my life, I’m a fucking mess. It’s horrible.
He shouts gruffly. I think he wants me to come to him so I try my hardest. I stagger, I stumble, but I keep my feet going. I don’t have much dignity left but the last thing I want is to be dragged to my death. It isn’t much – it isn’t anything really – but I’d prefer to have my head held high. Or as high as I can keep it anyway.
The man grows impatient, I can see it, but that doesn’t speed me up. I can’t physically make my body go any quicker than I can make it, so I just keep on slowly staggering. But this annoys him. When I reach him, he presses his flat palm against me so hard that I stagger backwards until I hit the ground with a hard thump.
“Argh, fuck!” For the first time in a very long time, I feel the pain as I hit the ground. The lovely numb bubble that I’ve been existing in vanishes and I’m in a hot agonizing mess. He’s done this just to humiliate me and now it’s up to me to try and force myself back up again. I could curse again and again, but what’s the point?
I roll onto my front, moaning through the pain, and I press my hand to the ground. I suck in a couple of deep breaths, needing to stand again. I have just about one more of these in me, if this asshole knocks me back again I’m fucked. I’ll just have to succumb that one last ounce of pride and let them drag me.
Just do this, I try to give myself a pep talk. You need to do this. One last thing and that’s it. It’s over.
I raise the top half of my body up and push myself onto my knees. It seems to take forever but I do it. Then just as I’m about to do that one last movement I feel the sharp agony of a foot kicking into my side. It wallops me so hard my whole-body lifts from the ground and collapses back into a heap on the floor. I’m fucked, there’s no way I can work my way through that. He’s finished me off. I’m done now. I grip onto my side and roll around, experiencing the full force of the kick. Each bone in my rib cage hurts like hell.
Bang!
There’s a pop which is definitely a gun shot. I know that now, I’ve experienced the sound of enough gun shots to know. I’m also acutely aware that it equals death. Probably mine. I brace myself and wait for the agony to come, the blood to spurt from me, the death to come… but it doesn’t. Somehow, the pain doesn’t come.
Bang, bang, bang!
Much as sound is normal, this isn’t. Nor is the beating I just received. Something has changed and I don’t think it’s for the best. It’s almost as if these men are frightened now which is scary. There’s nothing more terrifying than a man who feels backed into a corner. Especially like these animals. There’s no telling what they’ll do. I want to move, to hide, but I’m stuck. Pinned to the floor in pain, probably about to die.
I close my eyes. If I can’t move then I might as well not see what’s about to happen. I’d rather it just occurs without my knowledge. I need to get back to that place in my brain, I need to find Jordan again.
I’m sorry, Jordan, I’m sorry. I love you…
24
Jordan
It’s the first time since joining the army, in my life actually, that I feel like a superhero. As we burst into the compound of this particular Taliban sector with guns blazing, shooting to kill anyone who crosses our path, I feel invincible. They aren’t expecting us, we’ve been certain of that, so it gives us the upper hand. We should be able to take these fuckers out without too much trouble. I’m not concerned about that at all. My only fear is that Veronica might not be here, but I’m clinging onto the desperate hope that she might be. I need to.
Bullets fly through the room, the shocked men fall to the ground like a line of ants., dying as the bullets tear through their bodies. I can’t even feel bad about the loss of life because these are definitely the bad guys. They’ve killed and maimed, and if they are the right group, they’ve made threats against an innocent woman. They need to go. Jones races ahead of me, using the butt of his assault rifle to knock one guy out to give him the time to take out the one right behind him. Then he takes off down one of the hallways with a couple of his guys in tow. I hear gun shots ringing out in every direction but unfortunately, I can’t get lost in what everyone else is doing. I have my own mission, I need to find Veronica. That’s the only reason that I’m in this hell hole again.
I take off, taking only one second to fire a bullet into the leg of the guy that Jones took down.
“Tie him up,” I bark at Timmy. “We need to have some of them as prisoners. Someone needs to pay.”
If it were up to me, I’d put the bullet into his skull, but we do need people to be punished for what’s happening here. It’s always better to keep some alive for prison, and extra evidence for when we have to present why we stormed this camp in front of the martial court. It might well come to that because of the complex situation, so I’m just trying my hardest to think ahead. I want a couple of prisoners, that’ll be for the best.
Timmy falls to his knees and he does as I’ve commanded while I continue on. There’s an ice-cold sensation sneaking through my body, starting in my toes and coiling up through my veins. I don’t know if it’s unease or anticipation. Either way, it doesn’t feel good at all. I want to shake it off so I can focus. Maybe this is what Hankly was referring to when he didn’t want me to come. He knew how it would make me feel because I am so close.
I move up onto my tiptoes and walk forward with my fingers curled tightly around the cold metallic gun which is just about the only thing here to keep me alive and I move. I peek around corners, searching out for other bodies. I don’t see anyone for a while which makes me suspicious. Maybe these people were more prepared than I gave them credit for. Perhaps it was all just a trap and those people in the front were cannon fodder, purely there to be killed or captured so we feel like we’re getting a handle on things… just to then be stormed…
“Argh, fuck!” Just as that thought crosses through my mind it’s proven right by someone slinging their arms around my neck and squeezing tight. Whoever it is doesn’t weigh much, I manage to swing around easily, which is good because it shows me that my attacker is alone. This isn’t as dangerous as I first thought it might be.
I swing the butt of my gun backwards and slam it into something on him which isn’t enough to knock him off me. I try again, banging it against his hands until he slides to the ground. Once he’
s there, I turn and slam my foot into his chest, knocking him further to the ground. I don’t know if this is the man who hurt Veronica, who threatened her life, he might never have seen her to be honest, but he embodies all of that. I take out all the pent-up anger and aggression on him, kicking and punching him like there’s no tomorrow. It feels good to take out my rage, I can actually feel it seeping out of me as I really let loose. I probably even go a step too far as I hear bones cracking and blood splattering all over the ground. I don’t even know if I can find a way to stop…
“Miller!” It’s only Timmy’s voice which manages to shatter me from my stunned state. “I’ll capture him.”