Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
ELEVEN YEARS AGO
P ain. It was all he knew. All he remembered. There was no time, no date.
The bodies of his teammates, his brothers, were left where they’d fallen. They were not immortalized in time, frozen as the men they once were. The increased humidity and heat within the cave sped up the decomposition process or the four remaining members of the Delta Force team were in that cave a lot longer than any of them fathomed.
The smells were beyond his comprehension. The bodies of their friends had almost immediately started to expel wastes and gases, bloating within the shell of their skin. No bathroom facilities were provided or offered for the surviving prisoners. Though starved and dehydrated, stagnant water and moldy bread were still shoved down their throats every so often. The men had no choice but to allow their bodies’ biological needs to occur where they stood.
Flies, moths, maggots, mites, rats, mice, and a number of other creatures ventured into the cave to feast on both the living and the dead.
Farmboy, Cajun, Little Tyke, and Julian were not simply left to hang by their wrists. Every few hours, one or two were taken down and beaten. Teeth, nails, and patches of skin were removed. After Farmboy made one too many snarky remarks, they cut out his tongue. Little Tyke was down to seven fingers and five toes. Cajun had been drowned and resuscitated several times.
Julian watched it all, his jaw clamped shut. He played a mental game where he purposefully messed up the code inside his head. If he broke… He might be desperate enough to give the real code, so he tried his damndest to forget or misremember.
They did not merely make Julian watch as his teammates and brothers were made to suffer. After what Julian could only assume to be several days, the leader with the bandolier ordered his men to start in on Julian.
He took it all in silence. He never spoke, never screamed. The only time his mouth was open was when they pried his jaws apart to shove water down his throat. After the second time of doing that, a piece of bark was wedged between his teeth like a horse’s bit. Julian chewed through it within a matter of hours, his jaw once again clamping shut.
I will not talk…
They all lost weight, becoming emaciated and weak from the lack of nutrients, sunlight, and exercise.
One day, Little Tyke managed to slip his hand out of the cuff above his head manacling him to the ceiling. It was heart stopping, watching him try to slip his other hand. None of his missing digits were his thumbs, making the feat all the harder.
A terrorist came into the manmade cave within seconds of Tyke slipping his second hand free. Whether he heard something or was entering for another reason would forever remain a mystery. Before he could shout a warning to the others, Little Tyke bolted across the cave and ran into the man. He tumbled back, smacking his turbaned head on the rocky cave wall.
Blood smeared a path down to the floor where the man lay, unmoving. Tyke grabbed for the man’s weapons. Before standing, he bunched up the tail of the man’s black turban, creating a makeshift muffler as Tyke shot the man in the head.
Tyke stumbled to his feet, gasping for breath. No doubt the adrenaline burst he’d just had was already waning and his missing toes made his balance tentative at best.
The lower half of Farmboy’s face and his chest were coated in blood from his tongue being cut from his mouth. But the man was still able to make sounds. The grunts and whimpers he emitted sounded encouraging as Tyke fought his way over to him, a key in his three-fingered hand. As Farmboy was the closest to where Tyke was, it made sense to go to him first. There was a good chance Tyke would not have been able to make it to Julian, even though Julian appeared the strongest. He was weak from starvation but he’d been the least beaten and his body had not been mutilated as his brothers’ had been.
Between Farmboy and Little Tyke, they were able to get Cajun down too. Farmboy had the handgun Tyke had taken from the dead Taliban member trained on the opening in the cave as a weak Cajun and Tyke stumbled over to release Julian from his chains.
His arms screamed in protest as they fell, gravity taking him completely to the ground. He gave himself a single second to feel the pain before he pushed it aside. They had to get out of these caves.
Julian forced himself up, his entire body a flaming ball of agony. Tyke started to go over but Cajun managed to keep him upright. The two threw an arm around each other’s shoulders and leaned on his brother to get himself to move forward. Julian had an immediate flashback of SOT and working as a single entity to accomplish a goal.
It had always been the one place where Julian struggled. He didn’t lean on anyone well. But his brothers needed him as much as he needed them. His prideful need to handle things solo was no longer existent.
Together the four of them stripped the terrorist of his remaining supplies. When a water bottle was discovered, they shared the contents equally.
All of them stared mutely at the decomposing bodies of their brothers. The realistic fact that they had no choice but to leave their fallen behind sickened each and every one of them. Julian didn’t need to be a mind reader to know that. It might be the Rangers who dubbed “no man left behind”, but it was true of any soldier.
But they couldn’t take them. For one, their bodies were too decomposed. There was a good chance they’d fall apart. For another, it would be a test of the four Delta Force soldiers’ endurance to get themselves out.
Tyke reached for Julian’s arm. “We come back for them.” His young eyes blazed with confidence, his voice raspy and low. “Promise me, we are coming back for them.”
Julian nodded once. That was one promise he would never break.
As one, they journeyed from the cave for the first time in an unknown amount of time. Farmboy kept the handgun while Julian claimed the AK-47 rifle. The bottoms of his feet burned on the hard, ungiving floor of the cave, his knees threatening to give out with each step.
They did not have a map or a hint of the direction of an exit. The mouth of the cave opened to a single long cavern. Left or right was anyone’s guess. Julian looked to Cajun, hoping for a sign from the man as to which way to go. But the Louisianan man just shook his head and shrugged.
Julian did a mental coin toss and turned right. Without the lights from their prison, the cave soon fell into darkness.
The Taliban member Tyke had killed had not had a flashlight or any light source on him. It made Julian wonder how the man had navigated the cave’s tunnels.
They walked for what seemed like hours before the hint of light appeared ahead of them. Cautiously, they continued forward. The maze of tunnels they’d walked had not given them any reason to believe they were heading towards the exit, but it also hadn’t felt like they were heading deeper into the cave.
The glow didn’t appear to be from sunlight, but Julian also had to shield his eyes from the brightness after walking in the dark for so long.
He turned the corner, trying to keep the rifle level and knowing he was failing. Why was the weapon so fucking heavy?
The scene before him did not make sense to him upon first sight and it was that shock that cost him precious seconds.
They were back at the mouth of their cave prison. It was the same one they’d been kept in since captivity…and yet it wasn’t. The metal chains hanging from the ceiling had been removed, but the bodies of their brothers remained where they’d been. The body of the Taliban member had been moved, though his blood on the wall was still there.
Four wooden crates now stood in the center of the room, creating a square around the bodies of Patriot, Lamb Chop, Sparkles, and St. Nick. Wooden arms now hung from the cave ceiling, dangling a roped noose over each box.
The gunshot that rang out startled Julian from his shock at the drastic changes in the room. Cajun’s shout of pain echoed around as Julian’s training dropped him to a single knee. As soon as he spotted the leader walking up the cavern tunnel towards them, Julian pulled the trigger.
Click .
Nothing happened. Frantic, Julian pulled the trigger of the rifle again.
Click .
Fuck, fuck, fuck! Either the gun was jammed or it had never worked to begin with. Farmboy raised the handgun, but the results were the same.
Tyke had used that gun on the Taliban member. There had been at least one bullet in that weapon, but now it was nothing more than a paperweight.
Cajun and Tyke toppled to the ground, no longer able to hold each other up. Julian saw the fresh blood and the bullet wound in Cajun’s left shoulder, but it was not near the artery.
Julian did not care that they were surrounded, outgunned, and outmanned. As the leader approached, Julian attacked.
It was pathetic how easily he was overpowered. Farmboy, Cajun, and Tyke hadn’t stood a chance either. There was only so much the human body could take and they were already at their breaking point from their hours’ long trudge through the cave’s tunnels.
As Julian was dragged forward, the skin scraping off of his shins and the tops of his feet, he had to wonder if it was all some sort of elaborate scheme to get the four soldiers out of the cave for a time. Were the situation any less dire, Julian might even go so far as to call it a sick prank.
The four brothers were forced to their feet, their hands quickly tied behind their backs. Julian tried to kick at his captor, but his aim was pitifully off, and his foot connected with nothing except air.
Julian was lifted onto the box. It was sturdier than it looked. He had expected it to collapse under his weight, but the wooden crate held true. It even took the weight of the terrorist as he climbed up to loop the noose around Julian’s head, tightening the slip knot just shy of completely cutting off Julian’s air supply.
Farmboy was on the crate directly across from Julian. Little Tyke was on his right and Cajun on his left.
The leader started speaking, but Julian’s ears were ringing so loud that he barely heard the man’s voice and had no hope of picking up any words. The man stopped talking and looked to Little Tyke.
The young man had tears running down his dirty face as he translated, “For every hour that you do not tell him the code, he will shorten the ropes. He wants the code.”
Julian stared at the leader in his cold, dead eyes and tightened his jaw to the point that a tooth cracked in the back of his mouth. Still, he did not loosen his grip.
I will not talk…
The leader shouted something in his language and the ropes were pulled taut. Julian’s head was forced upward so he could breathe, the rope biting into his neck.
I will not talk…
Whether exactly an hour passed or not, Julian did not know. After a long while, the leader made another signal, and the ropes were tightened even more. It hurt to breathe. Julian’s eyes watered and snot poured from his nose into his unchecked beard.
I will not talk…
At the next signal, Julian’s rope was the only one not tightened. He watched as Tyke, Farmboy, and Cajun were forced to stand on their toes to continue breathing.
I will not talk…
Another hour passed. The leader continued to stare at Julian and Julian continued to stare back. Suddenly, the man let out a frustrated roar. He turned away from Julian, shouting in his language, but Tyke was in no position to translate. Just when it looked like he was about to leave without ordering the ropes shorted again, the man kicked the crate out from under Farmboy’s feet.
The sickening gasps of his brother’s dying breaths were drowned out by the leader’s continued shouted orders as he stormed from the cave.
Julian watched, helpless, as Farmboy dangled and bobbed above the ground. The fear in his brother’s eyes as he struggled in vain for air, the rope not merciful enough to have broken his neck.
The rope of his own noose biting into his skin, Julian continued to stare long after Farmboy’s struggles ended. The piece of his tooth he’d broken off was still in his mouth.
I will not talk…