Chapter 11 #2
He led them back into the larger room. “Okay, first off, you have to understand that all we’ve done is keep him tied up in a cold room,” Michael said, holding up his hands. “The bruising and all the rest of it, that’s from the explosions he helped to set.”
“What?” Ethan asked, shocked. “Who is he? Why would he do that?”
“So far all he’ll admit to is that he was hired by someone named Mr. Perez,” Michael said.
“He and his two friends came here and set charges in the smelter. It seems one of them set the timer wrong and got himself blown up. The other two tried to get away, but that one explosion set off the others, and well …” Michael shrugged, holding his hands apart in a helpless gesture.
“I guess they were both caught up in it.”
“And the one that was shot? There was gunfire,” Diane asked. She remembered the popping sounds that, from a distance, were very like fireworks.
“That was Jeff doing his job. He shot one of them and then hit this one on the head so we could get some answers,” Michael said.
“And now?” Diane asked. “Will you let him receive medical care?”
Michael sighed. “He’s had a little. Julie took a look at him last night and suggested we call you.”
The anger was palpable as it rose in Diane’s chest. Treating another human being like this was something she could never understand, never condone. “This is barbaric! You can’t do this to someone.”
Michael barked a short, mirthless laugh, “We could have done so much worse,” he said. “All we did was tie him up and ask him questions.”
“In the cold,” Diane said. “He could be suffering from hypothermia, in which case, he might die before he ever tells you more than that one name.”
There were footsteps behind them, and Andrew appeared.
“I believe he only knows that one name,” he said.
“There’s nothing more to gain from him being here.
You can take him to your clinic and patch him up.
We’ll decide what to do when Robert gets back from his trip.
I think he’ll be pretty happy with the progress we’ve made. ”
“Happy?” Diane was disgusted and saddened. “This is not what I expected to find here. Torture, even if it is mild, is still torture, and it’s wrong!”
“We needed answers,” Michael said simply.
“And you don’t get to judge us. You haven’t been here when we’ve been subjected to attack after attack.
We’ve had good people hurt and some killed.
We’ve lived in fear for so long now. This gives us a chance to find out who we’re fighting against, and we’re going to take it.
So be thankful that although we’re barbaric, we’re not depraved. Now take him and go!”
Diane set her jaw angrily, turning to Ethan for support. But his expression wasn’t one of anger. He looked as though he agreed with Michael and Andrew.
“Ethan?” she demanded.
He shook his head.
“I can’t believe you,” Diane said angrily.
“And to think I was falling in love with you. But I don’t know if I can love someone who condones this sort of behavior.
It’s disgraceful, and you should all be ashamed.
What is the point of pretending to have the moral high ground on these bandits if you’re going to descend to their level the first chance you get? I am disgusted with you.”
She turned her back on them and hurried to the small room. There she found the man who had set the blasts that destroyed the smelter.
He looked up at her as she entered. “Are you supposed to get me to talk?”
“No,” she said simply. “I’m Nurse Diane, and I’m here to help you. What’s your name?”
He laughed and then winced in pain. He smelled unwashed and of smoke and fire.
His trousers were blackened in places, and there were small burn blisters showing through the holes in the fabric.
The skin was shiny and hot to the touch.
Maybe the cold in the storeroom was helping with some of his wounds, at least.
There was a nasty burn on his left shoulder and another on his left forearm. Perhaps he had held them up as the blast reached him to try and ward off the flames. It hadn’t saved him. The side of his face, his ear, and all of his hair had burned away.
“These injuries are all from the explosion you set,” Diane said, gently probing his torso for signs of damage.
The ribs were broken, but his lungs seemed clear, and there was no fluid buildup in his body.
That meant there was no internal bleeding.
Good news. Perhaps he’ll live. No thanks to Ethan and his friends.
I can’t believe that the man I have feelings for would ever condone torture. This is simply too much.
After a couple more minutes, she was done with her examination. “All right, John?—”
“That’s not my name,” the man said.
“Well, I have to call you something, so since you won’t tell me your name, I’m christening you John.” Diane gave him a challenging look.
“It’s Curtis. I don’t like the name John.”
“Fine, Curtis, here’s the situation. You’re burned pretty badly, your ribs are broken, and you’re almost hypothermic.
I need to untie you from this chair to help you.
Are you going to be a problem?” Diane watched his eyes as she spoke.
Usually, there would be a flutter in the eye, a look that passed across it as the person decided to lie.
She watched for it as Curtis answered her.
“I won’t be a problem. What am I going to do? I have nothing,” he said.
There was nothing in his eyes to tell her he was lying, so she set to work untying him. She would have to take him back to her office somehow. She didn’t think he’d be able to walk.
He moved with lightning speed. The moment she had untied him, he was up out of the chair and had her in a chokehold before she could even cry out.
He was putting pressure on her throat, squeezing.
She scrabbled, trying to get loose, to hit him with her fists, dig her nails into his arms, but he didn’t seem to feel a thing.
“And now you die,” he whispered in her ear.
Diane tried to shake her head, to say no, she didn’t want to die. But she was losing consciousness as dark spots played in her vision.
Why is he doing this? I’m only trying to help him. This makes no sense. There was no lie in his eyes. How did he hide it from me?
The shot rang out loudly in the confined space. It seemed to echo off the stone walls. Curtis’s grip on her broke suddenly as something warm splattered the side of her face.
Without Curtis holding her, she crumpled to the ground, sucking in deep lungfuls of air. In a couple of breaths, the spots dimmed, and Diane could see again. She looked up into Ethan’s worried face.
“Why did you untie him?” Ethan asked.
“I was … going to … move him,” she croaked.
“You should have waited,” Ethan said. “He was dangerous.”
“Was?” she asked, rubbing her throat.
Ethan hesitated before speaking. “Michael shot him in the head. He’s dead now.”
Diane closed her eyes as tears came welling up. What had happened to the world? How was she supposed to deal with this madness? No one seemed sane, and she suspected that before long, she would be insane too.
Ethan held her to him, rocking her back and forth like a child. He whispered comforting words into her ear until Diane had a hold of herself again.
He took her up through the building and outside. The clouds had drawn together, hiding the blue sky, and as they began to walk toward the bridge, raindrops began to fall, washing Curtis’s blood from Diane’s face but not the tears that kept falling steadily.