by Gord Rollo
“She is my problem!” Tyrone turned on his brother, venom in his voice. “Her and the boy are the reason I can’t sleep at night and I’d rather die ten times than hurt them again. I don’t care what you say…I’m not fucking leaving without them!”
“Okay dude, simmer down. Just hurry it up, all right? We gotta get moving!”
Tommy was right, of course, but Tyrone had made up his mind. He’d screwed a lot of things up in his life but this time he was prepared to go to the wall to do right for his brother and this innocent family. In his heart he was starting to believe it was what God wanted him to do. He felt like he was being given an opportunity to right two wrongs and even if that was total bullshit and God had nothing to do with any of this, Tyrone was determined to see the mission through. Someway, he had to make this work.
Turning back to the woman and child, he did his best to say, ‘please come with us’, but he kept forgetting the Vietnamese translation for the word, please. Frustrated he lapsed into silence, not sure what else to say.
The Vietnamese women shocked them all by speaking in broken English.
“The words you looking for are vui long. It as close to your English word, please, as you can get.”
Tyrone was floored the woman knew his language but thrilled at the same time. This made things much easier. “You speak English?”
“Not well but some, yes. I was school teacher back in Abi Ba. Back before…” Her voice trailed away.
“Listen, you need to know--”
“No, you listen. I remember you, soldier. You hurt us. Took our lives. Why we trusting of you now?”
“You probably shouldn’t but I came here to rescue my brother and I’d like to take you and your son out of here too. I know I did a terrible thing to you back in your village but I can’t change any of that now. What’s done is done, but at least let me try and make it up to you and the boy by getting you somewhere safe. Please. You have to trust me. For better or worse I’m the only hope you’ve got.”
The Vietnamese woman looked at Tyrone’s face long and hard, and once again at the dead guard lying on the straw covered floor. She appeared to be mulling over her options, trying to decide which might be worse – staying here in Tartarus and being raped and abused or going with the man responsible for putting her and her son here in the first place. “Where you take us?”
Tyrone didn’t feel comfortable telling her Heaven, and wasn’t one hundred percent sure which religious faith the woman followed. Most Vietnamese people were devote Buddhists who believed in reincarnation over an afterlife but the woman was clearly dead and not starting a new life back on Earth so perhaps she practiced another faith. Or believed in nothing at all. Instead of guessing and potentially offending her, Tyrone simply answered, “Somewhere safe. Please…we have to hurry.”
He held out his hand to the woman and after a moment she reached out and took hold of it, standing to her feet. She said something to the boy in her native tongue but she spoke too quickly for Tyrone to pick up anything she’d said. It must have been something comforting though because the boy stopped crying and tried to put a brave smile on his tear stained face.
“Thank you,” the Marine quietly said to the woman.
“Can ve get out of here now,” Henrik said, his nerves on edge waiting over by the open cell door. “Ve have got to get across that bridge.”
Tyrone squeezed the woman’s hand tighter to reassure her things would be okay. He only hoped it was the truth. “Yeah, let’s move.”
15
There were only two guards stationed on the bridge connecting the fortress of Tartarus over to the sheer rock face of the pit, the only exit being the spiral staircase that would take Tyrone and his entourage up and out of this hot, smelly chasm. If they could make it over to it, that was.
The guards were both men of average height and build but to begin with it was impossible to tell what they looked like or how old they might be as they wore matching green rubber gas masks that effectively covered their heads and faces. The masks must have been for their extended stay in this terrible stench outside of the fortress, but that was merely a guess. It wasn’t until they walked back closer to the fortress entrance to take a sip of what might have been coffee or more likely something cold from their respective thermoses that Tyrone caught a glimpse of their lower face and could see that both men were black. Neither of them spoke to the other while drinking so it was impossible to tell where they were from or what nationality they were. Not that it mattered; the only fact that counted was that the masked men were in between the Marine and the freedom he’d promised his brother and friends. The put the caps back on their thermoses, slipped their rubber masks back into place, and strolled off for another patrol of the bridge.
With the numbers working in their favor, the five escapees could have charged out onto the bridge and overpowered the surprised sentries and quickly been on their way but rushing headlong into anything was never the best way to operate; certainly not the way Tyrone and his brother had been trained. Uncle Sam had instructed them to slow down whenever possible and survey the scene, gathering as much intel as possible before engaging the enemy. True strength lay in knowledge as much – if not more so – than brute power and this certainly wasn’t the time to be wildly rushing forward and making stupid mistakes. They were only going to get one chance at this.
“Stay against the wall and keep quiet,” Tyrone whispered to his charges. “There’s only two of them but I want to think this through. Just chill for a minute.”
Everyone nodded their heads that they understood, and even the little boy put his finger to his lips to show he knew what was going on. He was obviously a smart little dude and it just dawned on Tyrone that he didn’t even know his name. His mother’s either for that matter, but this wasn’t the time for introductions. There’d be plenty of time for that once they made it safely back up out of this pit.
“What are you thinking, bro?” Tommy spoke in his head. What’s the problem? We can take out two lazy guards in the blink of an eye. What are you worried about?
Just thinking about how we can give ourselves the biggest head start here. Busting heads isn’t going to get us nowhere. Whether it happens in half an hour or not until morning, someone is going to find the guards we left in both our cells and the shit is gonna hit the fan, right?
Right. The witch will throw a fit and they’ll start looking for us.
Exactly…which is why I ‘d rather not kill these two clowns if we can help it. If the guards are still at their station here, alive and well when the alarms start going off, what will that say to the witch?
That we didn’t get away yet. She’ll think we’re still in the fortress hiding out somewhere.
Bingo. And that means she’ll waste time having her guards search every cell and hiding place in Tartarus, which will give us several more hours to put some miles between us and them.
Great idea, Ty, but how do we pull it off. We can’t get by these guys without them noticing us. Not unless you’ve got some way of making us invisible.
I might have something better…look!”
Tyrone reached in his pant pocket and brought out the plastic bag with the remaining Binoctal pills left in it and showed them to his brother. There were four small green tablets left inside.
Those what I think they are? Tommy asked.
Binoctal, yeah. Henrik and I already used a handful to knock out the guard on our level for hours but we don’t have enough left to zonk out these guys like that. Pretty sure there’s enough to put them out for twenty or thirty minutes though, right?
Shit yeah. One pill each might even do it. Two each will send them tripping for sure. How you gonna get the guards to take them? If we force them down their throats they’ll still know we were here.
Their water…or whatever they have in those thermoses. If we crush up the tablets and get the Binoctal into their drinks they should dissolve and do our work for us. They zone out for a bit while we sn
eak by and we’re up the stairs before they wake back up, none the wiser, other than maybe a headache. They’re never gonna admit they fell asleep on the job.
And if it doesn’t work? If the pills don’t dissolve, or they don’t drink it all?
We go to plan B.
Which is?
We kill ‘em and run like hell.
***
Tyrone waited until the guards were at the far end of the bridge then quickly and quietly briefed the others on what they were about to try, and why it was worth the effort rather than simply killing the guards. Stealth and misdirection were their allies in this mission, and if they were to have any luck of outmaneuvering the Scarlet Witch and her minions, they needed to put as many miles between them and this fortress as possible before their scam was figured out.
The Binoctal pills gave them their best chance.
Tommy was going to try and make the drop. Tyrone had argued it should be him, as he had fresher legs and hadn’t been beaten and wore down as physically and mentally as his twin had been since being imprisoned here but Tommy put an end to that debate in a hurry. He’d always been the better athlete and runner and being thinner he felt he would be even quicker here than what he’d been back on Earth. Besides, Tommy was still the big brother of the two – even if it was by only two minutes and twenty seconds – and he wasn’t about to let his ‘little bro’ have all the fun. Tyrone would have argued more but the guards were headed back their way and in the end Tommy was probably right – he was faster than him.
Decision made, Tyrone crushed the green pills as best he could under his boot and carefully handed the plastic baggie over to Tommy. Wait until they make their turn and start heading away from us again. Give ‘em a little head start so they hopefully don’t hear you moving behind them.
You worry too much, Tommy said, a grin on his face. This is a piece of cake. Cover my ass though, just in case!
Tyrone started to think back, With what? but the guards had made their turn and Tommy was out of the doorway they’d been hiding in and off like a rocket. The thermoses were sitting side by side on the stone railing of the bridge, around twenty feet from where Tyrone and the others anxiously watched. Tommy made it to the drinks quickly and quietly, the guards still moving away from the fortress, having no idea anyone was behind them. All it would take was one glance over their shoulder and the gig was up – they’d have to fight their way out then. Lady luck stayed with them though, and Tommy managed to uncap the lids and pour an equal amount of the crushed powerful drug into the thermoses and put the caps back on with a bare minimum of noise. He even took a moment to shake the cups for a second, hoping to mix the contents better, and then he was racing back toward the safety of the doorway. Not a moment too soon either, for within seconds of him collapsing back against the inner wall out of sight, the two guards made their turn and started coming back this way.
You did it, bro! Tyrone said, patting his brother on the back to congratulate him. They’d made the right call sending Tommy. He was definitely faster than he would have been and those few precious seconds had been the difference between success and potential disaster.
Don’t count our chickens yet, homes; they may not drink it, or it might taste funny and they won’t take enough of the drug to put ‘em down.
True enough. All they could do was wait it out and see what happened and unfortunately that took another ten grueling minutes waiting for the guards to get thirsty again. Two more times the guards patrolled the length of the bridge before the stopping to take another drink from their thermoses. Being so close to the burning lake of lava, the heat was stifling outside of the fortress and it must have been practically unbearable beneath those rubber gas masks so there was no doubt they’d need to constantly rehydrate. Tyrone silently hoped they’d be thirsty enough to chug down their drink, rather than only taking a small sip. Both men put their thermoses to their lips and began gulping. They didn’t appear to have emptied the containers but they certainly must have swallowed a decent amount.
Hopefully it would be enough.
The guards recapped their drinks, pulled their masks back into place and headed out across the bridge again. By the time they were half way across the span, both of them were noticeably swaying and stumbling side to side as if they were drunks coming home from a night at the pub. One guard stopped walking and leaned against the railing, trying hard not to fall down. The other man stumbled on another ten steps, weaving all over the walkway before dropping to his knees near the far end of the bridge. His partner tried to go to his aid but fell on his face on his very first step; both men sprawling to their bellies soon were fast asleep.
“It worked!” Tommy said, out loud this time, their need for silence temporarily no longer needed. “Come on gang, let’s get out of here before they come ‘round.”
Tyrone nodded and one by one they ran for the far side of the bridge. Tommy led the way and Tyrone waited until the others were moving before taking up the rear position to guard their backs. Part of him was sure the guards would wake back up or someone would be watching them from above and sound the alarm but it never happened. The rag tag group of escapees made it across the bridge unchallenged and began climbing the spiral staircase as fast as they possibly could. They took the stairs two at a time, all of them beginning to believe they might actually make it away from this awful place without anyone getting hurt.
Tyrone wasn’t quite as upbeat as his friends. He was thrilled they had made it out of Tartarus undetected but that didn’t mean they were in the clear. Not even close. The Marine was bound and determined to get his friends to Heaven but he didn’t have the heart to tell any of them he had absolutely no idea where that might be or how he was possibly going to get them there.
Tyrone wiped the sweat from his eyes, feeling the heat in more ways than one, but soon followed his friends up the seemingly endless flight of stairs.
16
Everyone was sitting grouped together on the landing at the top of the staircase, his brother peeking over the edge of the chasm wall at something Tyrone couldn’t see yet. The air still smelled terrible here on the lip of the pit but the temperature had cooled off somewhat and the black smoke wasn’t nearly as thick and nasty this high above the witch’s fortress.
What’s up there, Tommy, the Marine silently asked, not sure if it was okay to speak normally or not.
Not what. Who. There’s a tall white dude up here sitting in a chair outside of a small wooden shack. He’s packing a big ass knife on his hip…looks like it might even be a Ka-bar.
A Ka-bar? You serious? He a Marine?
Doubtful. Have a look for yourself.
Tommy crouched down and let Tyrone pass him to have a peek over the rim. When he did, anger flared in his belly when he saw who his brother had been talking about. The man was tall and thin with the same tuft of wild blonde hair on his head as when they had met several days ago.
“I know this guy,” Tyrone whispered to his friends. “His name’s Jacko. Him and his buddies jumped me the last time I was up here on this level. That’s got to be my knife the bastard has. Dammit!”
“Maybe ve can rush him.” Henrik said. “Ve can’t sit here all night, that’s for sure. Vat should ve do?”
“Leave this asshole to me, guys,” Tyrone said, gnashing his teeth in anger. “I owe this son of a bitch a thing or two. I’ll be right back…”
Tommy grabbed his arm as he was about to run up the last few stairs to ground level. “Don’t kill him, bro. Not yet anyway. We need to ask him some questions, know what I’m saying?”
Tyrone certainly did. As usual his brother was two steps ahead of him, also realizing they were going to need directions if their mission was going to be successful. This man, as badly as Tyrone wanted to beat him to a pulp, could be a big help.
“I hear you. No worries. You guys stay put and keep your heads down.”
Tyrone took his time walking up the stairs to ground level, whistling quietly and making
sure he made enough noise to attract Jacko’s attention and let him think the Marine was just out for a stroll without a care in the world. He certainly caught the tall man’s eye in a hurry, the Gateway guard leaping to his feet and pulling his borrowed blade from the homemade sheath he’d attached to his belt.
“Hold it right there, friend,” Jacko said, but then he got a closer look at who was exiting the pit and the smile dropped off of his face. “You! How in blazes did you get out of the fortress?”
“I walked; same as everyone else does.” Tyrone took a few steps closer.
“But…but it’s the middle of the night. No one’s allowed outside at night. Certainly not someone like you.”
“Oh well. I guess no one explained the rules to me. Nice knife you have there. Can I have it back?”
An evil grin crept back onto Jacko’s face. “Of course you can…I’ve been saving it for ya. Come on over and get it.”
“That’s awfully nice of you; thanks.”
Obviously neither man was falling for the other’s charade but Tyrone headed straight for the thin man anyway, hedging his bets Jacko had never been trained to use a knife in hand to hand combat the way that he and Tommy had. Just from the way the vile man held the handle with an underhanded grip, rather than over the top with his knuckles pointed to the sky told the Marine he was an amateur. People always assumed it was better to use a knife to stab at your enemy using and in/out motion from the waist when the best option when given the chance was always to slice at them from side to side or to easily turn your wrist so you could drive the blade downward at them from eye level. Jacko was in over his head, and whether he knew it or not was none of the Marine’s concern. Tyrone moved into striking distance, ever cautious but confident he could best this scumbag easily.
