Burning Nation

by Trent Reedy

  In the alley behind the thrift shop, Sparrow and me crawled between the brick wall and an old dumpster until I made it to the basement window. I kicked what was left of the glass out of the window well and slipped into the dank basement. Sparrow handed me a heavy roll of barbed wire before she crawled down there with me. The two of us worked our way toward the front of the building.

  The old hard-core adrenaline rush came back as I heard footsteps on the floor above us. Dust and grit fell down through the floorboards. My toe hit a paint can or something that rattled away into the dark.

  “Watch it!” Sparrow hissed.

  “Sorry,” I whispered.

  Finally we reached the busted-out window at the front of the building. The wind outside was blowing icy cold, but sweat had formed a damp layer under my coat and jeans. “There’s about twenty seconds of time fuse on this thing,” Sparrow whispered. “It’s supposed to go off before they can see it and have time to react.”

  We’d packed several pounds of C4 into the hollow space at the center of the roll of barbed wire. When the time fuse burned down and set off the blasting cap, it would detonate the C4 and scatter bits of barbed wire everywhere — the nastiest antipersonnel bomb ever made. It was another idea from Kemp’s old sapper buddy.

  Twenty-five more dead, I thought. Almost an entire platoon. That would put a dent in Fed forces in Freedom Lake. It would mean a lot to beg God’s forgiveness for. But then that would be it. I’d get out of the fight and spend the rest of my life with JoBell. One more mission.

  “I’ll need your help pushing the wire out there,” I said.

  “You got it,” she said. “As soon as we get it out, hit the dirt and plug your ears. This will be loud as hell.”

  I nodded, and we positioned the roll of barbed wire on the ground outside the window. Sparrow lit the fuse. “Now!” We pushed it, but it hit a bump and didn’t roll far. Eighteen, seventeen, sixteen … Sparrow was on the ground. “Wright, get down!”

  “Hang on! It’s just gonna kill us this way,” I whispered. Thirteen, twelve … I tried to shove the wire roll with my rifle’s buttstock, but the weapon’s magazine caught on something.

  “Hey, what’s that?” someone said out in the street.

  Nine, eight …

  “Wright!” Sparrow hissed. I pushed hard on the wire. This time the bundle cleared the bump and rolled away.

  Six, five …

  I dropped to the floor and plugged my ears.

  Four, three …

  The air all around us shook like the whole world had exploded. Dust and grit fell down on us. I could hear screams from outside, but to my jacked-up ears, everything sounded garbled, like when someone talked through a fan. We didn’t wait around, but ran back the way we came. I was the first one up and out of the back window, checking the lane and looking up toward the roof. All clear.

  In seconds, I’d crossed the alley to the back door of the Bucking Bronc. I waited in the doorway, shifting my aim right and left to cover the alley until Sparrow was clear of the thrift shop basement and had joined me in the bar. We closed and locked the door behind us, then crawled through the building so that nobody would see us out the front window. I reached the basement hatch first and opened it for Sparrow, who looked at me like Are you sure this is a good idea?

  I knew what she meant. I wasn’t crazy about basements anymore either. But Sally had offered us a perfect shelter, and the Fed would expect us to be running away. The last place they’d look is right by the kill zone. I opened the little door in the giant metal tank that Sally had shown me. Sparrow and I squeezed through the small opening into the dusty, dark space. We’d staged blankets, CamelBaks for water, and a couple MREs there, and we settled in to wait a couple days and let things cool down outside.

  “You were a little off on the time fuse,” I joked quietly.

  Sparrow only kicked me.

  I tried to get comfortable in the total darkness, shifting around on my blanket. My hand brushed against Sparrow.

  “Watch it!” she hissed.

  “Sorry,” I said. I gave up on comfort and just lay there. The faint sounds of shouts and sirens filtered in from outside. I prayed they wouldn’t find us.

  We waited for hours that seemed like days. We were supposed to stay until things calmed down outside, but how would we know the time was right to try to leave? How could we maintain our sanity sitting here doing absolutely nothing?

  “So you’re engaged,” Sparrow finally said.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “How does Becca feel about that?”

  “Good. She congratulated us and everything.”

  Sparrow snorted. “Those weren’t tears of joy in her eyes.”

  “What are you talking about?” I said.

  “Oh, please,” said Sparrow. “You two have a … thing going.”

  “Yeah. We’re friends. Been friends since we were born, basically.”

  “You’re very defensive about it. And you’re a bad liar.”

  “Okay, well, what’s up with you and Luchen?”

  “We have sex sometimes. At least I can be honest about it.”

  I’d never met a girl more direct than Sparrow. “I, um … wow. Back on border guard duty, I thought you said Luchen would never touch you.”

  “It gets lonely in the Army, and when you spend all your time living and working with someone who likes you, sometimes things happen. And I said that stuff about not touching before our country fell apart and I became convinced that we’re going to die any day. But you’re dodging the question.”

  We’d just set off a deadly bomb, and Sparrow wanted to talk about relationships? “I wasn’t lying. Me and Becca are good friends.”

  “Right,” she said. “Nothing more?”

  “I have a girlfriend. A fiancée.”

  “And while she was in town for so long, you and Becca—”

  “Nothing! Just friends.”

  “Whatever,” said Sparrow. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”

  Why wouldn’t she let this drop? Worse, if she thought something had been going on between me and Becca, what did everyone else think?

  The quiet settled in again. “Specialist?” I said. “You’re not going to die. We’re going to get through this.”

  She laughed softly. “I actually believed your lie about Becca more.”

  * * *

  “Don’t move! Let me see your hands!”

  I woke up into blinding white light. Hands gripped my arms and my back scraped against the metal lip of the hatch as someone dragged me out of the boiler. “Let go of me, asshole!” I shouted. A rifle butt slammed into my gut and I gasped for air.

  “Let me go! Don’t touch me!” Sparrow screamed.

  I tried to get up to help her, but hands were all over me, pushing me onto my stomach. The cold pressure of a gun barrel pressed into the flesh at the base of my skull. A heavy knee rammed against my spine. They yanked my arms back and cinched a plastic zip tie tight around my wrists, digging into my skin. Then they left me on the ground.

  “All right, all right, I’m not … Get a good feel, pervert?” Sparrow said. She shrieked. “Aaah! Shit! Wright!”

  “Hang on! I’ll get us out of this!” I turned my body toward where our attackers stood. “Leave her alone! I swear, I’ll kill you all!”

  “Gag him and bag him,” said a deep voice with just a trace of an accent. Alsovar. “The girl too.”

  A wad of gritty cloth was shoved in my mouth and then tied in place by a rope or something. I heard Sparrow screaming into a rag too. I caught one last look of her terrified wide eyes before a black bag was pushed down over my head and everything went dark.

  They lifted me up to my feet. I kicked out to the front, but I connected with nothing. A firm grip seized control of my head through the bag. “Good. Fight back, Danny. The more you resist, the more excuse I have to leave bruises on you,” Alsovar said. Then he let me go and shouted, “The prisoner is resisting!” A boot crunched
down on the back of my leg, dropping me so that I slammed down hard on my knees, and then on my shoulder and head. My brain sloshed around inside my aching skull. “Pick him up!” Searing pain throbbed from both the front and back of my knee, like someone had stabbed right through my leg. My foot felt puffy, detached, like it was made of wood instead of part of my body.

  They hauled me up the stairs and out of the bar. I heard the sound of a running engine. Then they crammed me and Sparrow, both of us shouting against our gags, into a vehicle seat and we rolled out.

  “Should I radio this in, sir? Let them know we have him?”

  “No,” Alsovar said. “You will mention this to no one.”

  “But, sir, General Thane will want to know we caught him. You’re probably looking at a promotion at the very least. The president herself will be —”

  “Lieutenant, you will discuss this with no one.” Alsovar yelled louder, “The same goes for you, Sergeant. If you follow my instructions exactly, promotions are coming for both of you, but if we turn Wright over now, we’ll lose a chance for valuable intel about the local insurgents. Because, gentlemen, we just caught their ringleader. He’s the key to taking out the rest of them. And we have to break these damned insurgents soon, before we lose any more of our people. Do you men understand me?”

  “Yes, sir!” the other two said at once.

  My world became a blur of noises, voices, and hands pulling and shoving me along, out of the vehicle and into a building. Finally I was pushed down into a hard chair, my arms freshly zip-tied to the back. Nothing remained but the throbbing in my knee, my pounding heart, and the sound of my breath through my nose. I couldn’t even hear Sparrow anymore. I leaned my head back, hoping to rest it on the back of my chair, but instead it just kind of dangled there.

  Just like I’d be dangling from a rope soon enough. All that I’d done. All that people had sacrificed for me. The people I’d hurt and killed. My whole life had been destroyed since the Battle of Boise, but I’d held on. Held on to … what? Hope, I guess. I’d dreamed of a day when the war would be over and we’d be safe and free. JoBell and I would have a place together. Sweeney, Cal, and Becca would live nearby. Now none of that would happen. It would all end like this. The Fed had me. I was a dead man.

  I sat on that hard chair with that oily rag that tasted like ashes in my mouth, barely able to breathe, for hours. I probably would have fallen asleep if not for the pain in my knee, the swelling bruise on my head, and the way the zip ties cut off circulation so I couldn’t feel my hands. I couldn’t even get out of the chair. They’d zip-tied my hands to the back.

  If they were going to kill me, I wish they’d hurry it up. The cloth had been crammed so far into my mouth that even while I pressed on it with my tongue, every couple minutes it would make my chest tighten up and my throat lurch like I was about to puke. This made tears well up in my eyes. If I did throw up, I’d probably choke to death on my own vomit.

  I closed my eyes — not that it mattered, since this damned bag blacked out all the light. I hoped the barbed wire bomb had killed a bunch of Feds. I hoped they’d died slowly, bleeding out while they screamed. I hope it cut into their knees. Took their hands off.

  But no. We’d used a big bomb. At least six pounds of C4. We’d killed them fast. We didn’t torture people like these sick shits were doing to me.

  JoBell. I let you down. Oh, God, I’m sorry, baby. I tried. I should have tried harder. I should have got out earlier like you wanted. JoBell! If they had me, how long until they found everyone else? Until they found her? Tied her up like this. Felt her up like they did Sparrow. I couldn’t protect her anymore!

  I pulled against my restraints. “Ye fufsh he ooo fe ooo!” I tried to threaten them through the cloth. But after a few seconds, I thought, Get yourself together, Wright. This was only the beginning. They didn’t have JoBell. They didn’t know shit. As long as I kept my mouth shut, it would stay that way. They could do what they wanted to me. They’d never hurt my friends or JoBell.

  * * *

  The bag flew off my head, and I found myself in a plain, windowless, white cement room, half the size of a classroom. A cold blade cut the rope that held the gag in my mouth, and finally the cloth was taken out. A long string of drool trailed the rag, and the man wiped it on my face. My lips and jaw ached so much that it hurt to close my mouth. When I forced it shut, my jaw didn’t seem to line up right, like the feeling I’d get when a tooth had been knocked crooked in the rodeo.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting, Danny.” Major Alsovar sat down in a chair across the table from me. “Remember me? Your old buddy Major Alsovar? What was it you said to me after you murdered my men at your shop?” He leaned across the table. “Oh yes. You were coming for me? I should bring more guys? Two soldiers, Danny. That’s all it took to bring you and your insurgent whore in.” He sat back and smiled. “What’s that thing you do? Gets the insurgents all riled up?” He held his fist at an angle above his head. “Arrrrrr! I’ll give you a war.” He laughed. “How much of a war do you think you’ll give me while you’re tied to that chair?”

  “Private Daniel Christopher Wright. 492 55 7114.”

  Alsovar clapped his hands together slowly three times. “Oh, very good. You remember your training from when you used to be a soldier. From before you broke your oath and betrayed your country.”

  I was still a soldier, and I hadn’t betrayed anyone. I wouldn’t betray Idaho and my friends by telling him anything more than my rank, name, and serial number, like the regulations said.

  “Do you know … I’ve served in the United States Army for seventeen years. This is my fifth war. I’ve been in combat in Afghanistan, Syria, Pakistan, Iran, and now this mess. I have experience, whereas you have nothing but” — his eyes went wide — “delusions. So let me explain something to you. You’re trying to follow the procedures of the Geneva Conventions, the treaty that provides us with”— he made air quotes with his fingers— “ ‘rules’ for prisoners of war. But your little rebellion hasn’t been recognized by even one nation in the whole world. Not even by your terrorist pals in Iran or Pakistan. Certainly not by the United States. So Idaho hasn’t signed the Geneva Conventions, and the rules do not apply. Even better for me, under the conditions set forth by the Unity Act, officers and other field commanders are allowed to use all reasonable means to stop rebel activity, including deadly force.” He slapped the table. “So don’t hold out hope for a lawyer. Don’t be expecting the president to come take you to some big trial.

  “Now listen very carefully. I’ll tell you an important secret.” He leaned across the table and whispered, “Nobody knows you are here.”

  The major stood up and walked a slow circle around the featureless room, his boots clomping on the cement in the silence. He probably wanted me to act all scared, especially as he made his way behind me. I stared straight ahead. When Alsovar came around to the other side of the table from me again, he stood still for a moment. Then he quickly reached down for something out of sight.

  He slapped a pair of dog tags down on the table, both colored red-brown with dried blood, one of them twisted and mangled somehow. “This was just about all that was left of Captain Rosado after your attack the other day.” I turned my head away. “No!” Alsovar marched around to my side of the table, grabbed my head, and forced me to look. “You open your eyes and look at what you did, or I’ll cut your eyelids off! This is what your little barbed wire terrorist attack did to him! This tag was embedded in his flesh. I had to rip it out of him!” He swung me and the whole chair forward, crashed my face against the table, and pushed me upright again. He shouted the rest close to my ear as though he’d bite it off. “He was my best friend! Saved my ass way back in Syria and again in Iran! I especially requested him for the task force to find you, and now he’s DEAD!”

  He spun me on my chair to face him. “He had a wife and two daughters.” Alsovar wound back his fist and decked me hard in the face. The chair flew back and my head hit
the floor. Little black dots danced in my vision, and I screamed in pain at having my full weight on the chair crush my hands beneath the back.

  Seconds later, he hauled me upright. I spat blood in his face. “Come on and untie me, pussy. I’ll show you how much of a war I’ll give you. Big tough war hero fights a man who’s tied to a chair?”

  “This isn’t a fight, boy. I’m going to break you.” He shrugged. “First, I need information from you that will save the lives of my soldiers. More than that, I’m going to have fun getting justice for my friend and all the other good soldiers you’ve killed. I’m going to enjoy breaking you. Then I’m going to kill you and that insurgent bitch and dump your bodies in the basement of that bar where I found you. The bartender knew where you were hiding. She wanted the reward money. I’ll just tell everyone that when we went down to check out the tip, little Danny Wright tried to kill us, so I had to take action to defend my men. Then, using the information you’re going to provide me, I’ll wipe out the rest of the insurgency and restore freedom and peace to Idaho.” He smiled. “They’ll probably give me a medal for it.”

  He picked up the dog tags and slipped their chain over his head, tucking them under his uniform shirt. Then he shoved the bag back over my head. The door slammed. A second later, the lights shut off, and I was plunged into total darkness.

  At least the gag was left out of my mouth. But my wrists and shoulders throbbed in pain from being tied up and mashed under the chair earlier. Blood ran from my nose down into my mouth. I spat into the bag.

  “You gotta forget the pain,” I whispered to myself. “It’s going to hurt a lot more. But then it will be over.” All I had to do was stay quiet and wait to die.